Chapter 8

“Dinner!” Lucy shouted.

When Damien led her into the kitchen, she saw Lucy was dishing up pasta and Tom was already seated next to a girl—presumably, his girlfriend. She was pretty enough, with perfectly straight dark hair and thick layers of eye make-up. 

‘Not as good looking as me,’ Morgan thought smugly. She had a habit of rating herself against other females and usually came out on top.

“Morgan, this is Katie,” Damien introduced them.

Katie looked up with a bitchy looking half-smile and gave a little wave.

“Hey,” Morgan grunted with the same energy. 

It wasn’t that Morgan hated other girls—they usually hated her. Her female friends were the exception. Both Cara and Rheya were hot in their own rights, with very different looks. Together the three of them ruled the school. Or rather… they had before Damien came along.

Morgan pulled out the seat next to Damien after he sat, smiling at the little sister when she plopped some of the pasta onto her plate.

“Thank you,” Morgan said. She picked up her fork, about to dig in.

“Erm.” Damien elbowed her in the side. “Rude. We haven’t said grace.” 

“Sorry,” Morgan gasped, dropping her fork.

“Don’t be a dick, Damien,” Tom scolded. He turned to Morgan with a sympathetic smile “We don’t ever say grace in this house, just dig in.”

“You’re no fun,” Damien said and began to eat.

For the next few minutes, the only sounds were lips smacking and the clinks of metal cutlery against porcelain.

“Oh, I, uh, decided to go vegan by the way,” Tom said to his girlfriend.

“What?” she dropped her fork, turning to Tom with eyes wide in disbelief. “You said you would rather die than stop eating meat.”

Tom scratched his head, eyes shifting to the left. “I, err, changed my mind.”

“More like he changed your mind,” Katie spat, flashing an evil look in Damien’s direction. 

“Meat is murder,” Damien said.

“Well, I hope you know I’m not doing it, and I’m not cooking this vegan shit when you’re at my house,” Katie said. “We are the top of the food chain; we are supposed to eat meat.”

“It’s delicious, Lucy,” Damien said. “Ignore her.”

Lucy smiled sadly as Katie floundered. “Oh, I didn’t mean this was shit, Lucy, I mean vegan food in general…”

“And we aren’t the top of the food chain sweetie,” Damien went on. “The bourgeoise class take the top spot, and while they label us consumers, it’s fairly obvious we are the ones being consumed. Born, put to work in their factories and then disposed of when we get too old.”

“Here we go again.” Katie rolled her eyes.

“You can roll your eyes all you like but it doesn’t change the fact your family all voted for it. What makes it even worse is the fact your Mum is so into the church and yet she votes right-wing. Next time she asks if Jesus loves me, I might blow her mind and let her know Jesus was a socialist,” Damien lectured, making the 'mind-blown' gesture with his hands.

Morgan, having little understanding of either politics or religion was happy to let the entire monologue go over her head. She was glad to take his word for it. Katie, on the other hand, was getting visibly annoyed.

Instead of forming an argument, Katie turned to Tom.

“Are you going to let him talk to me like that?” she asked, pursing her lips.

“What?” Tom asked with a mouthful of pasta. After he finished chewing, he added, “He is right, though. Didn’t Jesus say rich people suck?”

"In those exact words." Damien grinned like a maniac.

“You’re taking his side?” Katie asked, dropping her knife and fork to place her hands on her hips.

“It’s not about taking sides, Katie, it’s just a fact,” Tom said, frowning. 

“Oh, so it’s a fact that my family is shitty?” she asked. 

“YES!” Damien nodded. 

“You’re a nasty piece of work. Fake ass goth looking wannabe poser with your shitty piercings and shitty obscene T-shirts,” Katie said, spitting as she churned out her hateful words and turning red from anger.

“My T-shirts are awesome. You’re wearing a Ramones T-shirt for crying out loud. How much more generic wannabe edgy girl can you get? Have you even listened to the Ramones?”

“Fuck off Damien,” she seethed.

“Go on, name me one song. Just one. Hey Ho Let’s Go, bitch,” Damien said and chuckled at his own joke.

Morgan wasn't a Ramones fan but had enough music general knowledge to know he'd used up their best-known song in the question. A smart move, if not a little mean.

Katie ignored his question and turned to Tom again. “You’re just going to let him call me a bitch?”

“What?” Tom frowned, looking at her as if to say, ‘Why am I being shouted at?’

“Beat him up, the little prick!” Katie urged.

Morgan didn’t mean to say it. She didn’t mean to hand up and slam her fist into the table. Anger and overprotectiveness took over. 

“Watch your fucking mouth, bitch!” she blurted, giving Katie her patented popular-girl scowl.

Katie jumped back, mouth agape and stunned to silence as Tom let out a stifled chuckle.

“Fuck you all,” she said, getting up from the table. “We’re over. You have a tiny dick anyway.”

After Katie stormed out, slamming the door behind her, the others sat in stunned silence for a moment.

“I’ve seen you in the shower,” Damien said, breaking the silence. He patted Tom on the back. “You have a perfectly average penis.”

Tom took a couple more bites of his food before dropping his cutlery and staring down at the remains of his meal with misty, forlorn eyes.

"I don't suppose there is any chance you'd apologise to her?" Tom asked Damien, giving him the world’s most pathetic smile.

Damien sucked his teeth and winced. "Not even if you got down on your hands and knees and begged me. Sorry. All this started because you made a decision without consulting her. The girl's a control freak. You can do so much better than her and you know it. "

For whatever reason, Morgan felt it was appropriate to burst into song.

"She's like, so whatever, you can do so much better," Morgan sang in a surprisingly decent impersonation of Avril Lavigne. 

"I love that song!" Lucy cried, joining in.

Despite his sad face, Tom started to laugh.

"If you get too lonely, I'll let you borrow Morgan," Damien said, patting his stepbrother on the back.

"Huh?" Morgan asked. "What that fuck, Damien?"

"Share, share, that's fair." Damien smiled.

"Food... not... people." Morgan frowned, hoping he was making a weird joke. 

"Come on, I'm going to teach you to play Day of Dragons like a pro," Damien said, dragging Morgan away from the table by her wrist.

"Pro as in... professional, right?" she asked, only half-joking.

Damien laughed. "You're funny sometimes. I never knew that about you."

Not sure how to respond, Morgan smiled.

Once they got into Damien’s room, he declared himself too tired and warm, pulled off his hoodie and sat on the floor, leaning against his bed. As he slouched further the fabric of his top slipped up, revealing a little flesh.

Morgan bit her lip, overcome with the urge to push up his top an inch or so more and plant kisses along the line of his hip. When she'd felt these urges around Toby she'd never hesitated. With Damien, it was different. How would he react?

'There's only one way to find out,' she figured.

She dropped to her knees, crawled over to where he sat, gently pushed up his shirt and pressed her lips against his skin.

"Hmm," he said. "Where are you going with this?"

Instead of answering, Morgan kissed lower down until she reached the top of his boxers. Tucking her fingers into the black, skull patterned fabric she pulled them down while fiddling with his belt. 

She couldn't figure out how to release the clasp, but luckily, he obliged, undoing his belt and the fastening of his trousers.

Morgan took this as unspoken permission and preceded to pull his dick out. 

For whatever reason, she'd never pictured him being well endowed. Maybe it was his attitude, the tight trousers he wore or the fact she'd never liked him in the past, but she'd always imagined him having a tiny one. 

It wasn't. The length was about the same as Toby’s, but it was thicker. She had to open her mouth wide to fit it in and there was zero chance of being able to fit it all in.

Using the skills she'd learned on Toby, she brought him to orgasm quickly.

Grimacing slightly at the bitter taste, she swallowed and looked up at him. Cheeks glowing pink and sweaty, he looked down at her, made a weird face and told her he would not be reciprocating.

"I'm not into giving head," he said.

"Yet, you're happy to accept it?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No. I let you do it," he said. "And I might let you do it again."

"Lucky me," Morgan said. It came out sounding more sarcastic than she'd intended, earning her a sour look.

"I'll remember that," he said before doing up his belt and logging onto his game.

He mostly ignored her for the next couple of hours, occasionally telling her titbits about the game or commenting on other players mistakes. Morgan found she was happy to watch him. It was an excuse to stare at him without him noticing.

'He's so cute, I could stare at him for the rest of my life.'

"Are you sleeping here?" he asked, interrupting her soppy thoughts. 

"Can I?" she asked.

"Sure, but I only have a single bed so it might be cramped," he replied. 

Morgan smiled at the thought of spooning with him, imagining how it would feel to press her naked stomach against his back. Getting into bed beside him was all she could think about for the next hour or so. She thought about it so long and hard that the reality felt dreamlike. 

He stripped to his boxers and got into bed, looking at her expectantly.

With deliberate inertia, she pulled her clothes away and placed them in a neat pile. She could feel his eyes on her as she lingered for a moment in nothing but her underwear before joining him in the bed.

"Good night," he said.

When he turned over and switched off the lamp beside his bed Morgan was disappointed. Feeling both horny and wide awake she rolled over to spoon him, placing an arm around his slim waist. She rubbed herself up against him, gently running her hand up and down his stomach.

Damien tutted. "I can't be bothered to have sex."

"You can just lay there," Morgan said. She kissed his neck as she reached into his boxers. "I'll do all the work."

The bed slumped as he rolled and shifted onto his back. 

He looked up at her and chuckled. "I guess that's acceptable."