Chapter Four: Wet Dreams

Caleb 

What the fuck did I just do? 

I run my fingers through my hair, pacing the walls of my bedroom. I made out with Ryan. And it wasn’t just a kiss that I could blame on the stress I’d been through the past few days at the hospital. 

I let him give me a blowjob. And I liked it. I liked having his mouth around my cock, feeling his tongue slide around the tip—wet and hot. And I came in his mouth. Anna and I had oral sex a lot…she liked going down on me, even if she knew it would lead nowhere. 

She was good at it too. 

But ten minutes with Ryan and I’m coming hard like a high schooler reading a Playboy magazine for the first time, unable to hold back. 

“Fuck,” I grunt, pulling at my roots. I stride into the bathroom, stripping off my joggers as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My face is flushed and my bottom lip is swollen from where Ryan took over the kiss. I run my thumb over it slowly, my breath hitching as I remember the way he tasted. I close my eyes as a sigh slips out and my hips jerk involuntarily, as if picturing him on his knees. 

His head, tilted and his eyes wide open, with a soft yearning look I can’t resist. I always thought he had the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen. It made the paparazzi pictures all the more believable too when they saw how he looked at me. 

When we first started “fake dating," one of the pictures had gone viral. I had my arm around his waist, and he was caught in a small pout, with his eyes on my face. It started the fanbase that has now grown to over a million followers. 

It was a mistake, I tell myself. It won’t happen again. 

I strip completely, stepping into the shower. The water hits just shy of scalding—hot enough to turn my skin pink, to make my muscles unclench one stubborn knot at a time. I let my forehead press against the cool tile. 

My breath fogs the glass door as I exhale in ragged bursts. I can feel my dick twitching, begging for attention. 

I drag my palms down my face, pressing my fingers into my eye sockets until bright spots bloom behind my lids. The water sluices over my shoulders, rivulets tracing the dips of my collarbones and the ridges of my abs. My cock feels like it’s about to explode if I don’t do something. 

As if one time wasn’t enough. 

I wrap my hand around myself, thumb smearing the bead of precum already leaking from the tip. The water runs over my knuckles, slick and hot, as I stroke myself slowly. “I’m not thinking about him,” I grit my teeth. “I am not thinking about him.” 

But it’s Ryan’s fingers I see in my head. 

It’s his throat I picture, fluttering around me as he gags slightly before pulling off with a wet pop. 

“Fuck, just like that—” I grunt, pumping harder. My grip tightens as my hips jerk faster, my legs trembling. I’m close. I’m so fucking close. I can feel Ryan’s lips closing around me, his head bobbing up and down, desperately trying to get all of me in, to the back of his throat. 

The water pounds against my back, the heat almost unbearable now, but I don’t turn it down. I imagine him on his knees, in front of me, begging to take all of me. Every last drop, “Please, let me suck you off. I'll be so good, I swear—”

I bite down on my lower lip hard enough to taste blood and copper. My balls draw up, tight and heavy, the ache building low in my gut. 

“Ryan.” His name tears out of me with a rough, guttural groan. My orgasm hits like a punch, my cock jerking in my fist as cum paints the shower wall. My knees buckle, my free hand slamming against the wall to keep me upright. 

The water washes it away almost instantly, the evidence of my accident going down the drain. I swallow hard as my heart races and my pulse pounds, struggling to catch my breath.  

I lied. 

I’m a fucking liar, because it wasn’t a mistake. 

When I come out of my bedroom, the living room is empty. There’s an empty juice carton on the table, but other than that…no sign of Ryan. I glance over at his bedroom door, and my chest tightens with guilt. 

I shouldn’t have walked away. After all, I kissed him first. 

I shove my hands into the pockets of my scrubs as I walk to his door. I should apologize. My phone buzzes and I stop, pulling it out. “Crap,” I mutter. It’s Anna. She sent two texts. I stare at the screen, then at Ryan’s door. 

My phone buzzes again. I swipe up without thinking. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you, baby. I was frustrated, that’s all.”

“Why don’t I make it up to you? I’ll bring your favorite sandwich to the hospital.” 

Then the last one. 

“You’re not mad at me, are you? I’m your girlfriend.” 

I hear footsteps coming from Ryan’s room. I rush to the door without thinking, quietly slipping out and closing it behind me before he realizes I’m gone. My back hits the wall as I inhale sharply. I’m a coward; I’ve accepted that. 

I feel terrible for making Anna leave and pushing Ryan away. 

But she’s my girlfriend and he’s…my roommate. 

I send Anna a text, pushing down the stab of guilt that rises to my throat. “I’d like it very much. And we could go over to yours in the morning. Maybe spend the day together. Or two.” 

Her response is quick. “I’d like that.”

Shoving my phone into my pocket, I head down the stairs. Forty-eight hours. Hopefully it’s enough time for me to stop thinking about Ryan…and his perfect mouth.