Blue 42 by C.A. Rene

Chapter fifteen

Sebastian

The feel of the cold water spraying on my face brings me back to consciousness. I groan and push myself up from the floor, the tile as cold as the water. I know the routine after a concussion and as soon as I felt myself getting drowsy, I came into the shower. It’s worked before but this time, I must’ve blacked out.

The doctors asked me to have someone here with me for this exact reason but I don’t want Jameson or Ortiz in this house right now, not while I look weak, and I am not calling someone here. I can deal with it. I know the drill with concussions, this being my third one, and I was sure this one would be like the others, but I was wrong. I feel more disoriented, my body is heavy, and my mind is slow. I need to hide this shit though because I can’t let Coach know the extent of my injuries, I’ll be benched. I don’t have an injury clause in my contract, they could let me go eventually if they really want to, and I will be out of a job. That can’t happen.

“Sebastian?”

Why am I hearing North’s voice? Why does this shit keep happening? The doctors said I was asking for Dixon while I was in and out of consciousness and now, I’m hearing his voice in my home? That shit is impossible. I step out of the shower and grab a towel, wrapping it around my waist.

“Avando?”

It sounds like he’s right there on the other side of the door and I groan as I slap my hand to my forehead. Fucking stop. The hit makes me dizzy and I fight to keep the blackout at bay, I’m afraid to be here alone. I open the bathroom door and stumble into my bedroom, the room swaying and losing focus. No, I rub my palms against my eyes, stay awake.

“Sebastian?”

“Fuck!” I scream, “why do I keep hearing you?”

“Because I’m here?”

“No, you’re not!” I scream again and turn towards the sound.

I blink as my vision greys, but I do see North standing there, his arms outstretched, and wearing all black. I shake my head and stumble against my bed, the movement making the pounding in my skull worse. Why am I seeing and hearing North? I fucking hate the pussy.

“I think you need to relax,” how is he still talking? What the fuck is wrong with my brain? “Do you want something to drink?”

I fall forward on my stomach across the bed, “please stop talking,” I slap the top of my head, “why is it always you?”

“Why always me what?” He asks.

“Inside my head, making me think things, and feel things that aren’t real.” I might as well confess myself to the fake version of him, “that’s why I did what I did to you, I needed to somehow get you out of my head. Now, it’s getting worse.”

“Worse how?”

“You’re stuck in my head, I think about what I did to you all the time,” I roll over onto my back, the towel opening, and falling to my sides, “I’m not gay.” I ground out just as I feel myself hardening.

Dixon

“I’m not gay.” He says as his towel falls open and his cock juts out, long, and thick. He’s had that inside me and I can’t seem to take my eyes from it as he groans some more, his arm thrown across his face. Is he hard and thinking about me?

I’m not gay either, but my dick is hardening in my own pants at the sight, and I turn away with a curse. I don’t know why Avando has this effect on me and it’s frustrating as fuck. I don’t even completely understand what the fuck I’m doing here. He’s not my friend and he would never do this for me. I hear him groan again from behind me and turn to see him grab a pillow and hug it in close to his chest.

“Don’t leave, Dixon.” He sounds so fucking broken.

I take a deep breath and walk back to him, grabbing up the blanket that's on the floor. I cover his naked body and sit at the end of the bed. I know I have to stay and wake him every half hour, no one else cared enough to do it.

“I’m here.” I answer him as he begins to snore softly.

Thirty minutes comes and goes and I haven't moved from my spot at the end of the bed. He’s been talking in his sleep and a lot of it is about me. Him begging me to stay with him, asking me why I’m here, and then cursing me for being here.

“Sebastian,” I nudge his shoulder, “hey man, time to wake up.”

His eyes open slowly, still glazed over and unfocused, and it begins to worry me.

“What’s your name?” I ask him.

“Why are you still here, North?” he moans, sounding a bit more like himself.

“Someone has to make sure you’re alive,” I retort and help him to sit up, “here drink this,” I hold the Gatorade to his mouth.

He watches me as he drinks and when I pull the bottle away, his eyes remain on mine. Still not completely focused and he sways as I release him, falling back onto the bed.

“My head hurts,” he complains.

I lean over him, reaching to grab a pillow for under his head, and feel him fist my sweater, hauling me down on top of him.

“Why are you still here?” his breath fans my face and I swallow thickly.

“I told you,” I begin but I’m cut off when he grabs my face with his other hand and drags my mouth to his.

It’s not a sweet kiss, nothing you’d expect from a lover. No, this kiss is infused with hatred and it burns as he plunders my mouth. His tongue takes no prisoners as it rips through my lips and his teeth draw blood as he bites onto my flesh. His groan sends my blood pumping fiercely through my veins as I match his hatred with more of my own. I don’t know what’s happening with us but right now, it feels so damn good; and then all thought leaves me as I ground my cock down onto his naked body.

“The things I do to you,” he whispers as I run my tongue down his neck, “has to stay inside my head. No one can know, Dixon.”

He’s said my name twice now and each time sounds reverent, like a prayer. My mouth travels down further and I latch on to his nipple, biting into the small, hardened nub. His fingers curl around my hair and he moans my name again as I continue downward. I reach his belly button and dip my tongue inside, grinning when he hisses. His hips come up and his cock bumps under my chin, forcing reality in that moment.

I am about to fuck a man. Not just any man, but a man that has raped me and I don’t think I could stop if I go any further. I rest my forehead on his muscular lower belly and take a deep breath, trying to figure out what my mind and body are saying. Is this what I want? Is Sebastian the person I want to have this sort of relationship with? I’ve never ever been with a man, never crossed my mind, and I have never even held an attraction.

He makes the decision for me when I hear his soft snores hit my ears again and I lean up to look into his face. He’s sound asleep with a small grin on his face and a hard dick that’s digging into my ribs. I push off him and grab his blanket, covering him once again.

“Don’t leave,” his face contorts with distress.

“I’m here.” I whisper as I lay down beside him.

“North?”

His voice shatters through my dream of running laps around the field and I open my eyes to see his face above mine.

“Hey,” I croak out and notice he looks clearer, his eyes once again focused.

“What are you doing here?” he sits up and looks under his blanket, realizing he’s naked. “I remember the shower,” he sounds confused but keeps looking back at me.

“That’s all you remember?” I ask as I sit up beside him.

“There are snippets of other shit but I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not.” I can see him staring at the side of my face and I could bet those snippets are us making out, “you just came inside my house?”

“Yeah,” I stand and turn to face him, “I was told you were at the hospital with another concussion. So, I came by here to check on you. I rang the doorbell but there was no answer and your door was open. You shouldn’t be alone with a concussion.”

He nods and looks up at me, uncertainty shining in his gaze, “thank you.”

“You’re feeling okay now?” I ask and look to his bedroom door, the need to escape becoming overwhelming.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat and rubs his hand over his nipple, the one I bit into. “I’m good now.”

“Alright,” I walk slowly to the door, “I’ll check in on you tomorrow after practice.”

“Nah,” he says and I look back at him once again, the confusion so clear on his face, and his hand still covering his nipple. “I’ll have Jameson and Ortiz.”

“Right,” this awkward situation is only growing worse by the second. “I’ll see myself out.”

He doesn’t say anything as I slip out of his bedroom and rush down the stairs, my mind a tangled web. I guess I will have to forget everything we did in that room and face that it died the second it was over. I open the front door and shut it behind me, then I jog across the street to my car. I slip inside and take a deep breath, trying to control the wild patter of my heart. He doesn’t remember anything we did. He doesn’t remember those heated kisses or how I almost had him in my mouth. That should be a blessing for me since I’m not sure what’s going on and what my actual feelings are, but it’s not.

It’s somehow making me feel like I’ve had my heart pulverised and then handed back to me, a pile of mush. I look back up to his second story, knowing his room faces the back, and wondering what he’s doing now. Is he trying to figure out if what we did was real? Does he hope it was? Do I want him to realize it was real? Am I gay?

I bury my face in my hands and try to imagine any attractive man, judging my feelings for them. As I flip through the images in my mind, I feel nothing, and then Sebastian is there. I feel fucking everything and it has me sucking back a sob, my emotions no longer in my control. I just made out with a man, I would’ve even gone further, and I can’t figure out if I’m gay or not. I don’t want any other man, I don’t find any of them attractive, and the one I do have feelings for, happens to be the one that took advantage of me.

I am completely fucked in my head. There’s no other explanation.