Page 91 of Hyperspeed
Bright colours exploded behind my eyes as I tumbled over the edge, ropes of cum firing from my cock and straight into Rev’s mouth. He pulled off, choking as he tried to swallow, but the sight just made me cum more, painting his lips and cheeks with my load.
I swear I blacked out, and when I came to, I watched Rev wipe his cock with the rumpled bedsheets. It was wet with fresh cum, so he must’ve rutted against the mattress while sucking me off.
I patted the space beside me. “Come here.”
Part of me worried he would run now that the storm of sexual tension had subsided.
But he didn’t, he just crawled up my body and plopped down at my side. He laid his head on my chest, draped an arm over my stomach, and wrapped his tail around my calf.
His skin pulsed the colour of amethysts, and I wanted to ask what it meant. I’d only seen it once before, and while I thought every colour he glowed was gorgeous, this one was my favourite.
Instead, I kept my mouth closed, and Rev didn’t say a word.
We didn’t speak. Didn’t need to right now.
We shifted until we nestled beneath the quilt, tangled in each other, and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Twice throughout the night, we woke and exchanged orgasms, communicating in kisses, grunts, and moans until the planet’s two moons made way for the light of dawn.
When I woke up for the last time, I was alone in the bed.
Rev’s clothes were nowhere to be seen, and the award, which I’d left on the bedside table, was absent. At some point, he’d erased any sign that he was ever here, but when I buried my face in his pillow, the soft, unmistakable scent of apples clung to the fabric.
Rev might’ve fled, too scared to face whatever was growing between us in the harsh light of day, but the memory of him, of what we’d shared the night before, was stitched into every thread.
And no amount of running could undo it.
Written in the Stars, Scrambled by Gravity
Rev
I’d made it to twenty-four before having sex, and the second time it happened, I’d become a douchebag who disappeared while the other person slept.
Waking up with my head tucked into Kai’s neck, his arms holding us chest to chest and my tail curled around his ankle, had filled me with a quiet joy. Tired, considering we’d got off twice more throughout the night, but still . . . content.
I’d lay in bed for what felt like hours, committing every detail of Kai’s face to memory. We’d been so desperate to fall into bed, we hadn’t even bothered to close the curtains, and the sun had streamed through the windows, casting him in a gentle golden glow.
Face relaxed in sleep, he’d looked soft, precious, a man born to bask in the sunlight. Faint freckles decorated the bridge of his nose, and a silvery scar cut through the arch of his right eyebrow. Stubble that I’d thought was a simple brown shone with blonde and auburn highlights, and the memory of those coarse hairs rubbing against my thighs sent a flare of heat through my groin.
Tucked away behind his ear was a single tattoo. The number forty-two—Kai’s racing number.
It was small and delicate, inked in a serif font and easily hidden by his messy hair. But I’d got close enough to see it. Kai hadallowedme to get close enough to see it . . . and that sparked the panic that twisted in my belly.
And without considering how Kai might feel waking up alone, I’d fled.
Fear pressed down on me until I couldn’t breathe, like a sudden wave sweeping me under and pulling me down. It was fear of what this . . . thisthingbetween us was becoming. Fear of what it meant now we’d crossed that line not once, but twice.
What had started as a stupid rivalry was shifting into something deeper, something heavier.
It had become something more, at least for me. I hadn’t considered why Kai had booked a hotel room, too busy gagging for a taste of his cock. For all I knew, this was his annual routine. Just a bed to fuck whoever caught his eye at the party, and I was just the lucky winner.
I didn’t know Kai, not really. Not beyond the track.
But part of me wanted to.
I wanted to know what had driven him to the ASL, how he’d got that scar on his face. I wanted to know about his dreams, about his childhood and his family. I wanted to knoweverything, and I feared this meant more to me than to him.
It was enough for me to run.
