Page 30 of Under The Twilight Rainfall
Me:Tell me not to run away.
Admitting, for the first time, that some part of me wants to stay? I’m royally screwed.
BythetimeIfinally join Valen, I’m convinced my food will be cold, but now it’s sitting on the arm of the couch, steam rising from the bowl, as Valen turns off the kitchen light and steps back into the room.
“Everything okay?”
No. I wish everybody would stop asking me that.
“Fine,” I say, going to sit on the couch, but I’m stopped by Valen reaching for me.
I freeze as his fingers sift through my hair. His face is soft, almost adoring, and when his fingertips graze the side of my neck, the panic sets in.
Pull him in or push him away, Dex.
I can’t stand him looking at me like that—like I’m something to be cherished.
When I step away, his hand falls to his side. No hesitation. He doesn’t reach for me again, but the small smile he gives doesn’t touch his eyes.
“Eat and let’s get some sleep.”
It’s not the peaceful type of quiet we’ve had up until now. The silence as he sets up his sleep mat and I devour the food so I can stop thinking for a couple of seconds is thick and uncomfortable.
Before I can stand to take my bowl to the kitchen and maybe escape the suffocating stillness that’s snuck its way between us, Valen plucks it from my hands.
“I’ve got it. Sleep, Dex.”
Only, after ten minutes of lying in the dark, Valen still hasn’t come back. I shouldn’t care. He can be up to whatever he wants. Maybe he’s the one that needs to work some of the sex out of his system.
He sure seemed up to it with that Jonah guy. Letting the brat kiss and touch all over him. I could see the look that guy was throwing me. I wanted to pull Valen into me right then and there and stake a claim that Valen wasmine.
But he isn’t. Never has been, never will be. Nothing is mine except for my photography. That’s what I need to be pouring my heart into, not whatever is happening in my chest because of this one man.
I end up pulling my laptop out and distracting myself with edits. About a dozen photos are for my normal page, pieces of today’s adventures captured and capsuled as single moments in time where I could breathe. Where I could take in this incredible, beautiful place I’m lucky enough to visit, and lay it out for the world to see—little pieces of myself for public consumption.
And then there’s the video. I have to put in my wireless earbuds because I don’t want anyone in the house hearing those kinds of noises, and as much as I know I need to keep my thoughts away from a certain Filipino man who isstilltaking his sweet ass time with whatever he’s doing, this is work and I have a job to do.
Watching myself on camera doesn’t usually do anything for me, but I can tell the moment I meet eyes with Valen because the energy changes. My dick definitely takes interest. I remember the lust that washed over me, remember the way he watched me with rapt attention that made me hot all over.
I see the relief that settles deep into my bones when he comes to the bed—even if I can’t see him—and oh god, Ididscream his name.
The shots might not be as well lit as some of my others since I didn’t have my full kit, just the mini one, but it still catches every twitch, every flex of my toes as my orgasm rolls through me.
This is what Valen saw when he watched, when he stroked his own cock discreetly over his shorts. It might even be what he thought about that night when he rubbed his hard-on against my ass.
I’m a quarter of the way through editing the video when Valen comes back into the living room, hair damp and disheveled, and all that lean, light brown muscle mass has my already rallying cock pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
He catches me staring and tips his head to the side, mouthing something I can’t hear. I pause the video and take out one of my earbuds, earning me a small smile.
“Are you working?”
I nod, mind racing as the conflicted feelings I’ve only just started drowning out come rushing back.
Valen’s smile is tight, but his eyes are kind as he steps over and gently shuts the laptop lid.
“Go to sleep, Dex.” He says it in a soft voice but doesn’t allow me to protest. Instead, he takes the laptop out of my hands and sets it back in my bag. “It’ll be there in the morning.”
I want to tell him to go fuck himself, that I can work whenever I want, but I’m too tongue-tied to get anything out. Emotions war with each other until all I can do is sit, stare, and struggle to force something coherent out of my mouth.
