Page 23 of Halluci-Dating A Demon
“Is Brody going to be there?”
She grows quiet for a minute, her hand freezing on her cup. “I think so. He and our parents are pretty close these days. It’s not like they have us living nearby, so I guess they see him as the closest thing they have to a son.”
Except he isn’t their son. He’s their son’s ex-boyfriend. I haven’t been in a room with the man for seven months, and I’m not sure I’m ready to be.
“Look.” Her eyes soften. “Who cares about him? I need you there, okay? Mom and Dad need you there. We all do.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say with an uncomfortable itch in my throat.
“That’s all I’m asking. Ian and that girl seem like they can handle you being away for a couple of days.”
I stifle a laugh. “You clearly haven’t worked with them enough then.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. You have a whole month to figure it out.”
“Yeah. There is that.” Which isn’t as much time as she makes it sound like.
I’m thankful when she finally changes the subject, and after we’re done eating she mentions us needing snacks. We stop at a convenience store on the way home, carrying two bags full of stuff that will more than likely have me loosening my pants tomorrow.
“We have a whole fucking candy and drink store in here.”
“Good,” she says gleefully, entering my apartment first. I walk in after her, flicking on the lights, and she throws herself back on the couch, calling out shows for us to watch as I enter the bathroom.
“Oh, this one’s new. Something about the son breaking the law and the dad a lawyer trying to get him off the charge.”
“Yeah, go ahead and play it. I’ll be out in a minute.” As I’m standing in front of the toilet and zipping up my pants, I think about seeing Brody at my parents’ party and start swaying.
“This is a little awkward,” a sweet voice says from behind me. “You keep hallucinating during the strangest times.” He hasn’t been around long enough to see how much more awkward it can get. It’s the reason I haven’t masturbated in weeks. Orgasms also trigger my cataplexy and sometimes leave me in a short half-asleep state.
“Don’t worry, I’m turned around. Is your sister still here? If so, I’ll try to be quieter. You humans sure do bathe and go to the bathroom a lot.”
A flutter af excitement fills my stomach and I’m laughing in my head. He feels it too, doesn’t he? I swear I can feel him vibrate behind me, that light above his head blinking a bright blue as it shines in the reflection of the picture frame in front of me.
“Shawshank Redemption,” he says. “Wait . . .Die Hard. I saw that the other day when they were showing older movies at the dollar theater.”
So, he goes to the movies. Does he go alone? A tinge of jealousy grips my stomach when I imagine someone sitting beside him, holding his hand or pressed against his side.
I try to shove the thoughts away, but when he starts naming what movie he’s going to watch there next week they come back tenfold.
“Do you ever go to the theater? What about drive-ins? I wish we had those. Maybe I’ll look it up in six months if I end up moving here permanently.”
The room goes quiet as my hand twitches, and I fall forward, catching myself on the wall. Amy is watching me carefully with a questioning look on her face as I walk back into the living room. “That was way longer than a minute . . . and were you talkingto yourself in there or is that a new way to get those bowels moving?”
“Please stop talking.” I walk toward her, sitting down on the couch and reaching for one of the bags.
“Not gonna happen. I bet it’ll get worse once I hit play too.”
And it does. Amy is one of those people who asks a million questions during shows and movies, forgetting I’ve never seen it before either. There are times I try to watch a movie before her so I can answer them, but that only works when I have some kind of prior notice.
On the fifth episode, Amy starts snoring, so I turn off the show and put on something more lighthearted, with humor—Click, one of Arien’s favorite Adam Sandler movies. When I’m trapped between the state of sleep and awake from laughing too hard, he shows up, curling up on the recliner—way too far away for my liking. He’s wearing a pink crop top and floral skirt, and as happy as I am that he has plenty of energy today, I kind of miss seeing him in nothing but my hoodie. Arousal spins inside me as I think about all the places it touches when it’s on his body, and I stay in a paralyzed state for even longer.
Arien looks my way, shrinking into himself. Fuck, he knows what I’m feeling. He can sense it, and I can’t stop it either. The heat in my groin intensifies when his legs spread, and I get a little peek at his soft cock resting between his legs under his skirt. My mouth is watering, and when he lifts his skirt a little higher . . . I’m grateful my sister moved to my room before he showed up.
He licks his lips, eyes going back to the movie, and his own arousal is on full display as he lifts his skirt higher. His eyes glow and his charms are flashing like crazy. All good colors. I want to touch him so badly—I want him to touch me—but he stays where he is, curling his legs up and adjusting his clothes as he starts to drift away.
I get up from the couch and pace the living room, shoving candy into my mouth. I can’t get how good he looked out of my head. Why even try when he feels like he belongs there. I rush into the bathroom and lock the door behind me, face flushed in the mirror as I pull out my cock. Closing my eyes, I see him on that recliner again, and this time he’s wrapping his fingers around his dripping, pretty purple shaft. I’m crawling forward to collect the salty drops on my tongue and second later I’m coming harder than I have in a long time.
My head goes hazy and I press my hands to the counter as my muscles go slack, cock still hanging out and cum covering my hands. He looks at me through the mirror. His cheeks are tinted and he wrings his shirt in his hands, eyes wild. “I didn’t expect this. But I guess I kind of brought it on. Can I touch you next time?” He bites his bottom lip, shaking his head. “No . . . I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. Why’s this so hard? It never is. I . . . I’ve never . . . This doesn’t ever happen, I promise. With you it’s like . . . like, I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”
