For the fans, p.19
For The Fans, page 19
Sure, it would probably feel great… Fucking the hot girl silly after this win. Plus, it’s what I’m expected to do. It makes sense.
So I nod slowly and rumble, “I need to be with the team right now,” backing away from her touch. “Just for a bit. And then I’ll come by.”
She beams up at me. “Alright, sexy.” She pushes up onto her tippy toes to kiss my lips quick, whispering, “I’ll be waiting for you.”
I gulp and force a grin, using the opportunity to slink away from her, disappearing into the crowd of my teammates, who are all rowdy with the excitement of the win.
We trudge back into the locker room together while my thoughts whirl. I know it probably isn’t right to string Lexi along… I’m fully aware that I don’t have actual feelings for her. But then hooking up with fuckhot cheerleaders is what we do. I’m sure it would relieve any lingering stress from the whole thing with Avi’s and my secret… job, for lack of a better word, that doesn’t make me want to stab myself in the brain.
But even so, while I’m showering in the locker room, I can’t help how my mind drifts to my phone sitting in my locker. And the unread texts from my stepbrother.
Why am I thinking about this?? I just won a huge game. I should be celebrating by getting drunk with my teammates and letting big-titted cheerleaders rub me down… Not dwelling on the money I need to stay on the team and the shameful way I’ve chosen to drum up said funds.
Padding out of the shower with a towel around my waist, I linger in front of my locker while the rest of the guys are dressing quickly.
“Yo, you coming, Nueve?” Guty asks me, gathering up his things to leave with Theo and Naruto. “We’ve got some partying to do, pimpin’!”
They high-five one another, laughing and slapping each other’s backs.
“Yea, totally.” I grin at them. “I’m right behind you.”
They leave, bringing the raucous noise with them until I’m standing alone in a quiet locker room with my curiosity piqued. I just need to see…
Get it over with. Read the texts so you can see what the fuck he wants and call it a day.
Unlocking my phone, I pull up the messages from Avi. He’s been texting me for the last few days and I haven’t even glanced at a single one. Until now.
Avi: I sent you some $$
Avi: Sent more.
Avi: Ok mucho dinero, superstar. It’s really rolling in…
Avi: Just thought you might want to see some of the comments…
There’s a picture attached; a screenshot of comments from his OnlyFans account. My blinking becomes rapid while I read them…
Miscellaneous strangers on the internet calling me sexy and gorgeous and hot as fuck. DMs from Avi’s fans asking for more, offering even more money for more content… And my head is sort of spinning.
Avi: I don’t need to tell you what this means…
Avi: I know you’re ignoring me on purpose, but if you just think of this objectively… We could make enough for the next two years.
Avi: It’s business, Kyran. Are you really going to throw away this opportunity because it’s a little weird…?
My stomach twists into a knot. I hate that he’s right. I hate that he feels like he knows all the answers, and I hate the idea of money controlling what I do.
But it’s the unfortunate truth to my situation. If I want to keep going the way I am, with this team, winning and building my own legacy, something that belongs to me, then I need to buck up and swallow my trepidations.
Does it suck ass that my obnoxious stepbrother is behind the wheel of this thing? Fuck yes, it does. Because he’s right… it definitely is weird. I don’t want more things like what happened the other day in his dorm…
But want is a luxury that, like most other things, I just can’t afford.
So with that thought and the image of even more Venmo deposits cha-chinging in my brain, I get dressed and leave the stadium.
But instead of going back to my dorm, I go to the Thomas More Apartments. Room 446.
Outside his door, my eyes shift up and down the hallway, making sure no one’s around before I knock. I hear shuffling from inside, and when the door opens a crack, I’m met with grayish-blue eyes rippling with startled confusion.
I push my way past him inside.
“Yea, sure. Just come on in… Make yourself at home,” Avi mutters sarcastically.
Spinning to face him, I grunt, “I’m following your advice, smartass.” He raises a brow. “Looking at it objectively…”
Standing still in front of me for a moment, he blinks and visibly swallows before he says, “Okay. So… what next?”
I shrug, ignoring the gnawing uncertainty in my gut. “I guess… we get to work.”
Avi lets out a breath that seems a bit unsteady, pulling a joint from behind his ear and lighting it. “For future reference, a little notice would be appreciated.”
My head tilts at him. “Why? Do you have any plans? Other than smoking yourself stupid, I mean…”
“Maybe,” he grumbles. “You don’t know what I do with my time. What if I was gonna go out?”
He sucks in a long drag, blowing the pungent smoke in my direction. My face scrunches in displeasure as I wave it away. “Yea, well… I’m sacrificing my free time to be here, too. So get over it.”
“I feel so very special.” Sarcasm lines his tone as he pads around the kitchen.
Scanning him briefly, my eyes take in what he’s wearing… Gray sweatpants, a fitted black tank top, and a Yankees cap on backwards. At first glance, Avi kind of looks like a jock. I don’t want to pay him any compliments or anything, but he’s unexpectedly fit. I’ve never known him to work out, and he eats junk food like he’s afraid the wells of trans fats are going to dry up. Yet he’s all curves and slopes of defined muscle. A full sleeve of tattoos on his right arm and more scattered in other places…
Shaking it off, I push my worrisome thoughts to the back of my mind, watching as Avi stubs out his joint, then pours liquor into two solo cups. His nails are painted chipped black, some ink marks on his knuckles that prove he’s not, in fact, a jock, despite how he’s dressed and the way his body looks.
He’s a bizarre character… A nerd who’s not good at school. An emo kid who smiles all the time. An artist with more muscle than some of the dudes on my team.
He’s an aberration, and I think his haphazard personality is what makes me dislike him so much. More than the fact that he popped up out of nowhere and moved into my life like it’s just that easy, he’s almost impossible to pin down, and I hate that.
I want to be able to read people… to know what their intentions are. I like my humans transparent. And Avi is a murky mass of opaque complexities.
Stepping over, he hands me the cup. He lifts his to mine, and I give it an apathetic tap before slugging back the shot. The liquor warms my throat, burning its way down my esophagus and hopefully working quickly into my bloodstream to help fog up my awareness.
I might need to be blasted every time I set foot in this place… I don’t want to be cognizant of where this is going.
Reaching for the bottle, I pour myself some more, eyes sliding into the living room. The couch reminds me of us being on it last time I was here… And my stepbrother’s hand curled around my—
“Where’s the thing…?” My voice comes out rumbly, spouting words to distract myself from the hectic way my nerves are rattling. “The tripod or whatever…”
Avi is quiet for a moment, and when I peek at him, I find him watching me, curiously intent; the way someone might observe a dog they think could potentially bite them.
“In the bedroom,” he answers, slowly sipping from his cup.
Nodding, I force myself into reluctant motion, wandering in the direction of his bedroom. Unfortunately, being inside only ripples my anxiety more.
His room is a little bigger than mine, set up the same with two beds and two desks, though it’s obvious that only one of each are currently in use. Avi’s bed is all rumpled, with sheets and bedding strewn about, his clothing and belongings covering the opposite bed. I’m not surprised in the slightest by how messy he is, since we lived in the same house for years.
Thank God we never shared a bedroom. I’d probably off myself. Sharing a bathroom with him was enough of a headache. The way our sinks looked was like a portal between the real world and the bizarro world. Extreme cleanliness meets pure chaos.
Slinking into the room, I sneak a peek at the scattered papers all over his desk, drawings of people and faces and different scenes. The detail is sort of incredible, but I don’t want to dwell on it… Especially when I hear his bare footsteps entering the room behind me.
“So… no roommate?” I ask, sipping from my cup. “Like, at all?”
He wanders over to the tripod, fussing with a video camera. That’s new… The sight of it lurches my stomach up into my throat.
“Guess not…” He sighs and shrugs. “The dude never showed.”
“That’s… good.” My eyes flit to his. “I mean, for this. Privacy…”
Jesus, this is fucking awkward. Rubbing the back of my neck, I take a larger gulp of booze. Please work faster…
Avi says nothing. He simply plops down on the bed, setting his cup on the floor as he reclines on his elbows. I’m annoyed by how he always seems so much more relaxed than I am. He’s perpetually unworried… and I can’t tell if it’s a symptom of his nonstop weed intake, or if he just genuinely doesn’t care about anything.
I end up shifting in place for a few heavy moments while Avi lies there fiddling with his nail polish like he has all the time in the world and none of the concerns I’m wrestling with. Finally inching over, I take a seat on the bed by his feet, sucking down the rest of my booze.
“Is the nail polish part of your anti-establishment image or something?” I place my empty cup on the floor.
“If that makes you feel better,” he huffs.
“I don’t feel any type of way about it…” I grunt. “I’m just making conversation.”
His eyes settle on mine. “Did you come over here to chat, or are we working?”
My jaw sets. “Forgive me for needing to build myself up to this… I’m not as interested in bisexual experimentation as you are, apparently.”
“God, you’re uptight.” He drops his head back on the pillow with a breathy chuckle. “The more pressure you put on it, the weirder it’s gonna be.”
I glare at him. “Well, what the fuck do you suggest? Should I just fucking dive on top of you?? I’m not attracted to you, Avi.”
His chin slopes as he aims a narrowed gaze at my face that brings unwanted heat rushing up my neck. It must be the booze.
“You’re not?” His eyebrow arches, and I shake my head firmly. “Not even a little…?”
“No.” My teeth grind together as he sits up.
Tugging his shirt over his head, he tosses it off to the side, and I can feel my pulse speeding up with my nerves. I fucking despise this reaction because it makes no sense.
I don’t want to be nervous around him… I don’t want him thinking it’s because I enjoy doing this.
I don’t.
“You must be a really good actor then.” Avi’s lips curve at the corner, into one of his stupid fucking dimples. “Ditch the football and you could be the next Jake Gyllenhaal.”
Frustration tenses my muscles. “You’re not making this any easier, asshole.”
He leans in closer, dropping a hand over my hips until he’s trapping me in place. I try to scoot away, but there’s nowhere to go, and now my pulse is really pounding inside my skull.
“Whether or not we’re faking this for the money, you can’t deny that you got off, Kyran,” he mumbles. “I was there. I saw it.”
“That doesn’t mean anything…” I force myself not to focus on the heat suddenly baking me inside this bubble of tension, his cinnamon sugar breath, or his scent, like cloves, mild weed, and something familiar I can’t put my finger on.
I don’t want to put my finger on it. I just want to get through this as unscathed as possible so I can stay in school.
Focus. Think about the money.
He looks like he has a hundred more wise-ass remarks on the tip of his tongue, but he keeps them in, lifting his hand and slowly moving it up to the zipper on my hoodie. Our eyes meet and his brow lifts, subtly, as if he’s asking a question.
A question my mouth wants to shout a resounding no to, but instead my chin bobs in a small, uneasy nod.
He draws the zipper down, watching as it descends. Then he pushes the fabric off my shoulders, and as much as I don’t want to, I help him get it off. Sucking in a breath, I pull my t-shirt over my head before he can attempt to do it for me, because I really don’t want it to feel like he’s undressing me…
But then his index finger draws a line along my waist, where the band of my boxers is visible from beneath my joggers.
I snatch his wrist in my hand. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m touching you, Kyran,” he hums, impatience framing his tone. Something about it causes an unwanted tickle in the pit of my stomach that makes me feel sick. “Do you not want me to?”
“No,” I growl. “I don’t.”
His head slants, and he blinks knowingly at me. “Then why are you here?”
My lips part, but I have no answer. There’s no way to do this without him touching me. It’s the unfortunate truth to this fucked-up situation.
So I swallow down even more unrest, release his wrist, and kick off my shoes, letting them clunk to the floor.
“You got here pretty fast after the game…” he croons, dropping a hand onto my thigh. My throat is all dry and scratchy. “I take it that kiss with Cheerleader Barbie didn’t go anywhere…?”
“W-why do you care?” I hate how the words stammer out of my desert-throat.
He shrugs subtly, that goddamn hand crawling toward my crotch. My heart is hammering, rattling my ribs as I sit, frozen, watching it like a venomous cobra. But it diverts its path, moving up to my abs, his fingers gently grazing my happy trail until I flinch.
“Just wondering…” His voice is a raspy whisper. The camera might not even pick it up. “If you already got off, or if this will be over much quicker.”
“I’ll be imagining I’m with her either way,” I grunt.
The lie tastes sour on my tongue. In my mind, it’s the truth. But it doesn’t feel that way, and my stomach rolls. I feel like Avi can tell I’m lying, though I’m not sure how, but it’s tripping me up even more.
“Fine.” His fingers trace the lines of my abs. “Whatever you gotta do, superstar.”
Suddenly, he grabs my forearm and flops backward, yanking me until he’s lying on his back and I’m on top of him. I go to pull away, but he grips me tighter, moving my arm until my hand is on his chest.
“Go ahead.” He settles beneath me. “Pretend.”
“I… I can’t…” I’m flustered to the max right now. I don’t even know how to do this… I don’t think I can.
My eyes slink to the camera, but Avi grasps my chin, twisting my face back. “Don’t think about that. Just close your eyes and pretend I’m her.”
“But you’re not,” I hiss, feeling flush in my face from how close we are… The position of my knees on either side of his thigh.
The fact that there’s no pussy or tits in the general vicinity… Only a dick attached to my least favorite person in the world.
“Come on… You’re Kyran Harbor.” He smirks. “I thought you backed down from nothing.”
He’s right. I hate it, but he is.
I refuse to let this stupid fucking situation I’m in beat me down. I’ve been fighting since I was a kid, and this is no different.
Channeling my nerves into fuel, the same way I do on the field, I close my eyes and lower myself over him.
Shakily, my hand slides up his chest. It helps that his skin is smooth and warm, though all I feel beneath its surface are boulders of muscle, like my own. It’s strange, and when our chests meet, I feel his tautness brushing mine in the most unexpected of sensations.
I’ve only ever felt tits on my chest. As curved as his pecs are, they’re not tits, and I’m painfully aware of that fact as I seal us together. But I ignore it, grinding myself into him slowly.
I can feel him breathing, his heart rapping against my chest as I squeeze my eyes shut tighter and move my lips to his neck. They rest there for a moment, but when his Adam’s apple dips in a hearty swallow, I have to move away, because it’s too real.
He’s too much of a guy, and it’s too obvious for my brain to ignore. Taking on a new tactic when his head turns, I go for his earlobe, sucking it between my lips.
This is something I can do to pretend he’s a girl…
But he lets out a rumbly sound, and I stiffen.
“Don’t make that noise,” I whisper sternly, flicking my tongue in his ear, sucking the lobe again until he squirms beneath me.
“I can’t help it…” His hands glide onto my shoulders. “It feels good.”
A twitch happens between my legs. I don’t want it to, but it does, and it turns my stomach some more.
“I felt that…” Avi chuckles.
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl and bite his ear.
Another twitch happens on my dick… But this one didn’t come from me.
“You’re so fucking gay.” I press my hips down, and he breathes a ragged groan that stiffens my erection against my will.
“Say that with my cock in your mouth,” he rumbles, giving my shoulders a gentle push.
Pulling back, I glare at him. “Not gonna happen. Ever.”
“I think it will…” He bites his lip, eyes falling to my mouth. “For the right price.”
“No.” My stomach twists up like a pretzel, chills sheeting my flesh.
Despite how burning hot I seem to be, my nipples are bunched up and hard as stones, brushing on his, until I shudder. He smirks, fingers gliding up my neck into my hair while I scowl.
“They would love to see it, though, Ky.” His tone is taunting, downright villainous, the grayish blue in his irises dark and glittering.
