Page 61 of His Every Move

My pulse quickened. Eli was lying on his bed, fully naked, gently stroking his cock. He bit his lower lip, eyes half-lidded, completely lost in the pleasure of his own touch. I stared, my breath catching as heat flooded through me, settling heavy and hard between my legs. My hand drifted downward, wrapping around my cock, now rigid and throbbing. Fuck.

His chat was blowing up with people sending him tokens and telling him how hot he was, what they wanted him to do to them. I jerked off faster, turned on by the fact that I’d just had Eli in my arms this morning. I knew exactly how his cock tasted, how his lips felt, how his love was a drug. I didn’t feel a lick of jealousy. Possessiveness? Possibly. I wanted to make him mine and only mine, but I was okay with others watching him. Like art being appreciated in a museum. Except I was the only one who got to take this art home, to study and memorize every stroke of the brush and speckle of paint.

And yet, as horny as this made me, I still had a job to do.

I kept an eye on the comments, on alert for any from Nomad. It seemed to just be regular comments from thirsty viewers. Nothing major.

I took another deep chug of beer, setting the near-empty bottle aside. Eli pumped his cock harder now, arching slightly, his smooth skin flushed pink. God, I wished my mouth was there, tasting the precum dripping from his tip, my tongue tracing the veins along his shaft.

My breath grew ragged as I stroked myself, hips beginning to thrust up into my palm. Pleasure surged through me like wildfire, hot and unstoppable. My chest tightened, breath hitching in my throat. Fuck, Eli was beautiful, erotic, irresistible.

Perfection.

That’s when I saw it. A comment from Nomad.

NOMAD79: You can’t keep ignoring me. I’m closer to you than you think, Eli. I will have you.

Shit. Eli saw the comment at the same time I did. He stopped his strokes, his expression blanching. I fucking hated this. He went from a moment of pure pleasure to one laced with dread in the span of seconds.

I leaned forward and clicked on the button requesting a private show. Eli appeared to consider it for a moment. He was likely about to log off altogether, but he accepted my invite instead. The screen went black to denote a private show was about to begin. Moments later, it was just me and Eli. A small timer kept track in the bottom of the video. I had fifteen minutes on the clock.

“Sorry about the vibe shift, Night. I’m sure you saw that comment from Nomad…”

NightOwl: I did. Sorry that fucker is still bothering you.

“Yeah, it’s not great.” Eli leaned back in bed and spread his legs. He was soft now, which I found just as attractive as when he was rock hard. He rubbed his chest. “But I’ve got someone helping me out. I don’t think I ever told you, but I went to that Stonewall Investigations place you suggested. Thanks. I found a detectiveanda possible boyfriend.”

I nearly fell off my couch in shock.

He was talking to meaboutme. And he could see us together. Holy shit.

NightOwl: Nice. I’m happy for you. You deserve it.

I decided to try and play it cool. Simple.

But… fuck. Guilt began to mount inside my gut. This was wrong on a hundred different levels. How much longer could I keep this up? I could just log off, never go back in this account again, pretend like NightOwl just never existed.

“Yeah, for a while, I didn’t think I was going to find someone. But he’sreallyspecial. Like, special enough for me to be bringing him up right now. Which is not what you’re paying for.” He palmed at his balls, getting himself hard again.

My cursor hovered over the X. I should have just closed out of the window. Gone on with my day. Eli would still get paid for the private show and hopefully log off so Nomad couldn’t harass him.

Guilt twisted sharply like a stab between the ribs. What the fuck was I doing? Eli had no idea who NightOwl really was—he had no idea it was me. He trusted me, spent time with me, fucked me, confided in me.

My heart sank, desire mingling with nausea. This was wrong.

I needed to tell him. Couldn’t overthink things. Just had to do it. Come clean.

About everything.

NightOwl: Eli, I don’t know how else to do this. It’s going to be a shock, but I need to come clean. This is Benji.

Eli read the message. Then read it again. Then again. He arched his brow, cocked his head. He scratched at the back of his neck. “That’s… what? This isn’t funny. How do you know the guy’s name is Benji? I never said it.”

Shit, shit, shit. I wanted to shout through the screen, “It’s me! I’m sorry!” I also wanted to erase the message. I shouldn’t have sent it. I couldn’t really think too clearly. Maybe this would have been better news to break in person. What the fuck was I thinking?

I finished what was left of the beer.

“Seriously, what the fuck is going on?” Eli was getting pissed. I’d seen his temper flare on a few occasions and could tell that this was one of those occasions. The tips of his ears were turning fire-truck red, his brows furrowing together.

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