Chapter 7

LEON'S POV

The figure turned, stepping into the light.

It was him!

He whirled around then, his eyes going wide with shock. “Leon? What the hell are you doing here?”

Damian asked, his brow furrowing as he moved toward me. “It’s Leon right?” He asked worriedly, grabbing my shoulders.

I nodded, “yeah.”

“Are you alright? I didn't know you'd come.”

“You…” I reached out, my fingers brushing the air before my vision flickered like a dying candle.

“You were the one... the messages were from you?”

“Messages?” Damian echoed, his curiosity vivid in his voice. “What are you talking about?”

His hands tightened on my shoulders, “who sent you here??”

I tried to speak, to ask him why he was pretending like he hadn't lured me here, why he was blackmailing me, but the world was receding. The fever had finally won.

“I...did what you asked,” I murmured , attempting a smile at him as he held me closer.

God, if this was a dream, I didn't want to wake up from it.

Of course it had to be a dream. Because it was only then that Damian could ever hold me like this.

“I didn't... wear it,” I managed to whisper, a final, shameful confession before the lightheadedness rushed in.

“What are you talking about, hey! Don't fall asleep!”

The last thing I felt was Damian’s arms catching me, pulling me against his chest as the world went completely, blissfully quiet.

I woke up slowly from what felt like an extremely long sleep. My first sensation was the coolness of smooth sheets that smelled faintly like laundry detergent, against my cheek. The lightheadedness had subsided now, and I felt better.

My skin was still sensitive and slightly damp, but the crushing weight on my chest was gone.

.

Where am I? The question had barely left my thought when the memories flooded back like a sudden downpour.

The hotel. The blackmail. And Damian.

I bolted upright, my heart lurched painfully against my ribs.

I was still in the hotel suite. But there was no sign of Damian. My mind raced, connecting the dots with the desperate logic of a boy who had spent years dreaming of a single impossibility. Damian had been there. Damian had caught me when I fell.

It was him. He was the one who had told me to meet him here.

The realization was a physical blow, more intoxicating than anything I had ever experienced before.

I sank back into the pillows, a hysterical sort of giggle bubbling in my throat as I let that realisation sink in.

The Damian from my stories, the one I wrote as a dominant, possessive beast, was real. He had stalked me. He had blackmailed me. He wanted me just as much as I wanted him.

I bit my lower lip, dragging my fingers through my hair as I sighed dreamily. “I'd let him do it,” I whispered into the quiet room, giggling with glee. “I’d let him break every bone in my body if it meant he was the one touching me.”

I began to visualize it, my imagination running wild now that the barrier between fiction and reality had crumbled.

I imagined Damian standing over the bed, his perfect features twisted with the same sexual intensity I poured into my books. I imagined him stripping away my shirt and pants, and taking me hard and rough until I could do nothing but scream his name. Until my throat was raw.

I tried to swing my legs over the side of the bed, eager to find him, to finish what I had started by showing up here.

But as soon as my feet hit the floor, the world tilted dangerously. My vision swam, colors bleeding into one another like a watercolor painting left in the rain.

I was still disoriented, the remnants of the fever making my limbs feel like lead.

“Whoa, easy there. You're still not one hundred percent.”

The voice vibrated through the air, sending a jolt of pure adrenaline straight to my gut.

“Damian?” I called out expectantly.

He stepped into my line of sight, though his face was a blur of lithe movement and shadow.

“You've been out for ten minutes.”

“I told you I wasn't feeling well,” I croaked, reaching out. My fingers caught the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.

“I'm okay now though.You... you stayed.”

“I wasn't going to leave you like that, Leon,” he answered, his voice dropping an octave.

A smile stretched over my face, and right then everything else disappeared. I didn't think, because that would've made me hesitate.

“I guess I have to say thank you now,” I murmured. “You saved me the other night.”

“You're welcome,” Damian replied.

I lunged forward, my hands finding his neck, pulling his head down toward mine.

He slid his large arms around my waist, “you should probably go now.”

“No, but…why are you acting like you didn't ask me to come?” I asked, the question sounded more like a whine.

Damian hesitated, then sighed. “I didn't think this through.”

“You don't have to,” I murmured, pulling his mouth down to mine.

“Leon, wait…”

I silenced him with a kiss. It was clumsy at first, and desperate, and fueled by years of longing.

His lips were firmer than I had imagined, colder, but they sparked a fire in me that scorched away the last of my common sense. I poured everything into it that kiss, pressing my body firmly against his as every night I’d spent jerking off to the thought of him rolled through me.

For a second, Damian went rigid, barely responding.

I kissed him harder, taking the fact that his hands were still around my waist as a sign. I felt the tension in his shoulders, the sheer power of his frame beneath my palms. Then, a low, needy sound vibrated in his chest, almost like a growl of surrender.

Then he kissed me back.

Damian hoisted me back onto the bed with a strength that made my head spin.

A moan escaped me as he came down on me, pinning me down.

“You don't listen do you?” He grunted, forcing my legs apart to settle between them.