How To Catch Cyan

E I G H T: DREAMS

Cyan held his breath. The deep breathing on the other side didn't scare him—No, it excited him. But why? This was the man that tried to kidnap and murder him. "My brother informed me that he saw you at Lorenzo's." Cyan kissed his teeth. He knew that guy with the shaved head would bring trouble. Still, that didn't answer his question.

"But I didn't give him my number." No, he had given his number to...Anthony. Cyan's eyes widened. "The fuck did you do to Anthony?"

Killian chuckled darkly, "So, that is his name? Anthony." He spit the name out in disgust, "Why does it matter, Cyan, who is he to you?"

"No one." He answered a little too quickly for his liking and his eyebrows furrowed. His palms had started growing moist. "I didn't even touch him."

Why did he clearly want Killan to know that Anthony meant absolutely nothing to him. Not at this point anyway, earlier Cyan had other plans for the cashier.

Killan let out a sigh of relief, "Good boy."

A shudder ran through his body, which slightly angered Cyan. "Good boy?" Cyan sneered. "What the fuck do you want?" Cyan's grip on his phone only tightened despite its slipperiness. He knew he should've hung up soon as he realized it wasn't Anthony—It was the most obvious thing to do, so why wasn't he doing it?

Killian voice softened,"I want you to come back. If you let me explain—"

"So you can kill me or what? Chain me to your bed?" Cyan had seen too many scary movies, he knew how things like this ended. The pretty ones are always stalked and killed first.

Killan made the same growling noise again that had Cyan's neck hair standing, "What the fuck is that? You keep doing that."

Killian ignored his question entirely, taking too long of a moment to think, he finally gave Cyan the strength to hang up. The phone began ringing again immediately. He dropped the phone on the bed and left it there, where he hoped it would burst into flames, backing away slowly. His hands made a mess of his hair as he thought of what the fuck to do next.

Telling Jordan was out of the question, he was paranoid enough and judging by that phone call he had every right to be. I should've stayed my ass in the house like he said. I ain't even get my fucking pizza out of it. The ringing consisted and Cyan couldn't have that. He groaned in annoyance, "Siri, don't answer." It stopped and didn't ring again. Fucking finally.

Cyan stood in front of his bedroom mirror, glaring down at the obvious tent in his pants. There was only one explanation—Killan. It was the way he kept talking to him. The way he kept saying his name! Cyan's mind became even more clouded as his eyes trailed down. Killan was the reason his body was still riddled with all the marks he graciously put there. Which had started to grow a deep red instead of the black-ish purple they were yesterday, they were healing fast. As his fingers traced the outlines, his hand became Killan's hand and his reflection became Killan and the room grew hotter.

No, His whole body grew hotter.

Black eyes bore into him as he wrapped his hand around his length. Killan was taunting him.

If Killan hadn't snapped what would've happened? The downright nasty things Cyan knew he would've let him to do to his body.

Oh, the things he still wanted him to do. Wistfully thinking, Why do the sexy ones always have to be fucking crazy...

The way Killan had gripped his waist was different than he's ever been held. He craved to be held like that again.

The way he licked his body. Cyan shivered at the memory. At the feeling of it now. It should be impossible, but Cyan could feel Killan's tongue tracing the lines of his stomach so much that his name left his lips in a chorus of moans and whimpers.

"All mine." Killian had said. All his.

Black dots coated his vision, "Oh, fuck." His knees buckled under him and he felt to his knees as his world rocked.

When the feeling of ecstasy finally washed away, the shame seeped in. I'm sick, He thought, growing disgusted by his own image staring back at him. The evidence of what he'd just done dripped down the mirror.

He'll clean it later.

His legs failed him, so he was forced to crawl back to his bed. Even climbing back up left him breathless. I'm officially losing my mind. Cyan shut his eyes tight, laughing cynically, I can hear him growling in my head. To his dismay, Cyan was growing hard again. "Please, not again." It always pained him the second time around. In a good way and that's what he was
afraid of when his mind was so captivated with Killan.

"Shut up. Get out of my head," He said to the voice in his mind. "And why is it so fucking hot?!" Cyan rolled on his side, grabbing his phone to text Jordan. He needed to ask him what his problem was having the heat this damn high!

Cyan froze in horror as he realized his grave mistake.

Killan's voice wasn't in his head...It was coming from his phone! He hadn't decline the call at all—He answered it. The worst of it all dawned on him.

Killan had heard everything.

"...Cyan? Cyan, pick up the goddamn phone." To him, Killan sounded like he was on the brink of losing control again. "Please, baby, come back. Let me touch you." He begged. Cyan, with cheeks reddened with embarrassment, shook his head as if Killan could see him. He suddenly flinched when a loud bang rang out. "Fuck!" Killan shouted, "Goddess, Cyan, when I find you."

Killan demanded again the Cyan put his ear to the phone. To say something, but Cyan rather was play dead. He wanted more so than to play at this very moment. In a haste, he hung up. He took it a step further and turned his phone completely off and threw it across the room.

Cyan changed his number the next day.

That day, Jordan took it hard. He threw angry side glances at Cyan, who was too focused on parallel parking. Jordan tried, but he couldn't hold it in any longer, "It's a stupid number." He mumble. "Is this about Genie?"

Cyan emotions boiled over, "Let it go! It's over. It's just a fucking phone number!" The real reason he changed his number was secret and he knew unless he told Jordan the truth, he'd have to hear his nonstop pestering. "Everything ain't about a bitch, I'm sick of hearing about this shit!" His hands slammed down on the steering wheel.

There were a lot of puzzle pieces missing from that night. He didn't give a fuck about it before, but now knowing that Killan had the means to get his number had his paranoia on ten. Puzzle pieces like: Who took Jordan home that night?

Jordan blinked, eyes stinging, "Did you have to get loud? You good?"

Cyan rubbed the spot in between his eyebrows. "No, I'm not." Cyan caved. He cut the car off and turned his head to meet Jordan's sad eyes. Cyan rolled his eyes. Of course, Jordan had to look like a kicked puppy just because he got yelled at. "I gotta tell you something."