Chapter 2 Dorian
What fucking time is it?
Sandpaper mouth. Heavy metal drum headache. A thin sheen of sweat. All familiar and not quite welcome. The plush softness of his mattress cradling him was a good sign.
Thank fuck he’d gotten himself into bed.
Floral, musky perfume, weed, and alcohol swirled in his nose. It was all swept away by the sweep of cool air to his left.
He cracked an eye open in time to see two round globes rising out of his bed. One of them was still red from where he’d smacked it the night before. The woman stretched tall. Her dark hair swayed just over the swell of her ass, straighter than it had been the night before.
He grinned, remembering her breathless, keening gasp and pleading for him to go harder and harder. He was grateful that all that hair was hers, even if it wasn’t naturally curly. From how hard she liked it pulled, he would have ripped out any extensions sometime during the second round.
“Oh, shit,” the other woman hissed, rolling out of bed beside him.
Dorian shifted, tucked his hands behind his head, and watched. He didn’t know her name. Another brunette, this one with a chin-length bob of waves. At least they used to be waves, but she’d sweated out all semblance of style along with all her makeup and most of her perfume.
The bed would smell like the two of them for at least a few days if the help weren’t decent.
The bob scrambled, bending over, giving him the perfect view of her sweet pussy, still glistening from the night before. Lube smeared between her cheeks, too. Freak.
Never let it be said that coming home wasn’t a guaranteed good time.
He grinned. Last night had been fucking wild and exactly what he needed after such a hard season. The bob snatched clothes off the floor, murmuring to herself and hurrying toward the bathroom.
“What—“ The other woman’s voice came out in a low rasp.
“After last night, let’s not pretend. I’m in a rush.”
Dorian chuckled. “I’m not opposed to more of that show.”
A raspy laugh followed. The door didn’t shut. The toilet flushed, the water ran, then the bob was out, hastily drying her hands on a towel and still mostly naked.
The shower started up, and Dorian considered joining her. His cock twitched with interest. As he rose to make good on that, his gaze caught on the crest etched subtly in the ceiling.
Like he needed a fucking reminder of the Fortuna Nike’s grip on his life. He wanted to climb up there and scrape it off, but that would have been a waste of time and money. Not that he didn’t have plenty of it, but he needed to keep as much of it as he could until he was certain he could skate away from the Centurions, guilt and problem-free.
The fuckers were already threatening to trade him off. He wasn’t going to let it happen before he made a legacy win, but after that, all bets were off. His market price would be through the roof, and he’d be a free agent. Would he keep playing after that? He wasn’t sure.
He wasn’t sure of anything. The future loomed ahead with uncertainty after the next year. Once his contract was up, the options should be vast, but he wasn’t a fool to think that was really the case. His family was still intertwined with the Society, and there was no way he could expect to claw his way out and still keep in touch. His Victor and his wife could go to hell, but his baby sister? His mom?
He shuddered at the thought that they might keep him from her. Might intrude on the little corner of peace his mother had carved out for herself overseas.
He shook himself free of that thought. He had a full season to come up with a plan that wouldn’t fuck up the rest of his and their lives.
Right now, he just had to get through the morning, starting with whether or not he was going to fuck the hot brunette in his shower.
The water cut off. He tutted. Not in the shower then.
His phone chimed. He swung his feet over the edge and grabbed it, swiping the code and snorting. The messages from the night before and earlier that morning were mostly from the other team members telling him to make sure the Cup crossed the ocean clean.
That wasn’t his job.
A reminder popped up on his screen.
He had a meeting with the Administration today. A message from Vincent popped up telling him when to arrive for brunch.
“Fuck you.”
He dragged a hand through his hair, snarling a bit. Thank the gods he’d cut that unruly bullshit off as soon as they’d won the Cup. He had no idea how Animkii lived all year with all that hair crammed into his helmet.
He chuckled, thinking back to Animkii. He hadn’t seen him leave the living room, or who with, but he’d heard the knocking of the bed and the moans the night before.
Mason though…
Dorian shook his head and rolled his eyes. Fucking relationship drama of the century. If that bitch fucked up their legacy season with her bullshit, he was going to get his sister to tear her hair out.
He might do that anyway for Mason’s sake. She’d be game.
He should probably check on him. Last time he’d seen him, Mason had been several shots past black-out drunk and high, stumbling out to the terrace…
He slid out of bed, calling Animkii.
“You’re alive,” Animkii chuckled, sounding entirely too awake. “Would have thought you’d be still dead after that double overtime you pulled last night.”
He grinned. “Must be those fucking smoothies.” Animkii laughed. “You laid eyes on Mace?”
It wasn’t that Mason had ever done anything suspect, but there were hints over the years that Mason was barely going through the motions on the best of days.
“I take good care of our lamplighter. You worry about your own hangover.”
“Don’t be an ass.”
“He’s asleep: soaked and sandy. I plan to make him pay for the cleaning.”
“Good…” Better than good, but… “…if you left with him, who the hell was fucking in my downstairs guest room?”
Animkii snorted. “Who said it wasn’t me?”
“Fucking asshole.”
“And where on the Wellness Axis are you on this morning?”
“On the corner of pissed off and horny.” He glanced toward the horizon. “Mostly pissed off.”
“Not much different from your usual settings. You alone? Maybe you need more smoothies.”
“Fuck you. Some of us function better with sleep and aren’t constantly horny and restless.”
“Poor sods. Definitely need more smoothies.”
“I’m hanging up.” Dorian paused. “Look after him… No bullshit, he was…”
Mason’s empty, hollow eyes, darker than he’d ever seen them, flashed through his mind.
“I don’t plan on letting him out of my sight for a while.”
Dorian nodded and hung up. Two hours to kill. He turned back to the bathroom. The buzz of a new message stopped him midstride.
Fuck.