Midnight sun

7 | Noah

On my drive back home from work I think about him.

It seems every day is harder than the previous one, and I'm struggling to keep up with all the hard work that Dylan has given me. Despite all that, my mind can't seem to shake him off.

He isn't that much older either, I realize, now that he's not disguised by a thick beard. Today, he took his hat off for a few seconds, letting his dark blond hair hang long, almost down to his shoulders. Then I caught the glimpse of a ribbed torso when he was helping the crew unload the truck. He is not as bulky as his clothes made him look. Or rather he's big but fit. It was too damn distracting. I found myself thinking what he would feel like on top of me, with all that weight pressing down on me, with no means of escape.

I didn't imagine myself in the submissive role with someone often. I did prefer to bottom but I never allowed any of the guys I hooked up with to take full control. But since I moved to Alaska, when I was alone in bed at night, I craved dominance. Someone to help me just... let go. I was never able to completely submit to someone. And Dylan seems to have something that made that part of me awaken.

The worst of it all, he isn't the kind of hot man who knew he was hot and who exuded that sort of arrogance. If anything he is stoic. Reserved even. Like someone from an old Hollywood movie, more concerned with doing a job well than how he looks doing it. His confidence seems to come from a lot of earned experience–he certainly knows his stuff on the construction site and that zero-bullshit attitude is incredibly attractive.

And the way he scowls and generally seems annoyed by the universe made my stomach warm with want. Which is confusing as hell. It is obvious he hates me so why do I find that so attractive?

Strutting around the area, observing everything, I swear he's watching me just so he can see what will I fuck up next. And when those eyes focus on me, giving me one of those once-overs, I want nothing more than to sink to my knees at his feet.

Often I think about purposely doing something wrong just to have that gaze fixed on me, to be the centre of all that masculine attention. What would it be like to be fucked by Dylan McKenna? Or suck his cock? I let myself imagine it. His dick pushing past my lips and down my throat, Dylan's fingers in my hair, the murmured words of encouragement and praise. 

But before I get too far into my fantasy, the picture in my head morphs into another, of the reality where I can't even imagine a life where I could have a meaningful relationship with someone at this moment in my life. I have issues, plenty of them. And I'm struggling to even have a normal job. The pressure to earn enough money to pay for all the expenses and things my uncle provides for me is real.

And there is something else entirely. I glance in the rearview mirror, taking mental note of the vehicle behind me. I'm fighting a shiver as I grip the steering wheel–it's a woman behind the wheel with a girl in the car seat behind her. My habit of watching who might be following at any given moment had proven hard to break. I know this is irrational, and that I am as far away from that monster as possible, but anxiety is not something I can control.

Once I arrive and shut off the engine, I let out a breath of relief. I'm safe here. Walking up the small stairs that lead to the front door, I decide to go straight to Aunt Adel and her cozy kitchen. I don't want to be late for dinner that she always so happily prepares for me and Uncle Paul. I go inside, still somewhat awkward that I don't have to knock before getting in.

"It's me, Auntie," I shrug the jacket off and peek into the kitchen."Smells nice in here."

"Hi Noah," she gives me a small smile while wiping her hands on her apron."How was your day?"