Page 58 of Felix

Christian hasn’t once tried to move my hands away, not in all the time we’ve been at the club. Not even now, when my fingers not-so-accidentally skim the soft underside of his ass cheek as we spin in a slow circle beside Alex and his boyfriends. He simply raises an amused eyebrow my way.

It makes me feel bold, and I trace the swell of his ass, feeling the curve of it, uncaring if anyone notices my hand beneath his skirt.

“Are you being naughty, Specs?” Christian asks, leaning close.

In answer, I let my other hand slip between our bodies, over the front of Christian’s skirt.

This time, he does catch my hand. But still, he doesn’t push me away.

“Specs,” he says, my name a gentle admonishment. “You told me not to let you do that.”

“I told you not to fuck me,” I counter, inhaling Christian’s scent from his neck. It reminds me of wintergreen.

He chuckles, something I can feel more than hear. “I think it’s time to go.”

“What? Why?” I groan, wanting to stay right here where I can touch Christian all I want and he lets me.

His lips skimming my ear perk me up as much as an electrical zap. “Because I made you a promise, Specs, and I intend to keep it. And right now, you’re acting like you’re two seconds away from pulling out my cock here on the dance floor.”

God, that sounds good.

“Come on,” Christian says, stepping back, my hand in his. He says something to Alex, who waves at me wildly, and we head for the exit.

There are a few people out on the sidewalk waiting for rideshares. It doesn’t take long for our own to arrive, and I follow Christian into the backseat of our car, trying my very best not to stare at his ass as he gets situated. It’s a losing battle. When we pull away from the curb, the thumping beat of the club continues to pulse in my ears, everything still a little muddled, as if I’m swimming underwater.

Christian eyes me. “Okay, Specs?”

I nod, head feeling heavy.

“You’re not drunk,” he says, almost a question but not quite. His next word is a whisper. “Horny?”

I groan, and Christian laughs. It’s a light sound, not mocking, so I laugh with him.

“I’m messed up,” I mutter, letting my head fall back against the seat.

Christian grabs my hand. “No,” he says firmly. “Not in the least.”

Neither of us says anything more, mindful of the driver in the car with us, but I’m positive not everyone gets a raging hard-on from the idea of pleasing another man in front of a club full of people. I would have dropped to my knees right there and worshiped Christian’s cock if he’d let me. It would have been so good. Thrilling. I wouldn’t have cared about the repercussions. Not until later.

There’s a reason I rarely ever dance. Rarely ever date.

How do I know who I can trust?

“Specs,” Christian says, pulling my focus. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

I swallow and nod, but I’m not sure I believe it.

When the driver drops us off outside our apartments, Christian heads toward my building without a word. I follow, my bravado faltering now that the haze has passed and we’re back in the real world where I’m just Emil, nerdy psych major who prefers solitude apart from his hermit crab and the company of his books.

Although that hasn’t been the case lately, has it? Christian has been nice company, too.

My neighbor stops outside my door, waiting for me to unlock it. I do, and we head inside together. I flick on the lights as Christian unzips his ridiculously tall boots. I try not to stare, instead making my way over to check on Arthur.

I can sense Christian as he walks into the room behind me. He hums, drawing my eye.

“I’ve seen these before but never really paid attention,” he says, stopping in front of the art on the wall behind the couch. There are three frames. “Are these brains?”

“Yeah,” I admit a bit sheepishly, crossing the room to stand beside him. He’s looking at the leftmost piece.

---