HOT BLOODED | Soldier Boy

3. DREAM A LITTLE DREAM

I feel the bed dip beside me, as I pull up the sheets over myself to cover up. Jason, or Mark, whatever his name was, lays breathless next to me, ecstatically looking at the white ceiling of just another pricey hotel, "So, did you cum?"

"Breaking news today as Payback has just successfully thwarted another attack on the city by what appear to be anti-Supe extremists. The group, led by former hero Soldier Boy, managed to neutralize the situation before any damage could be done."

I intently stare at the room's TV screen, the anchor's voice cuts through the quiet as they discuss the early day's events. A large hand obstructing my vision pulled me out of my trance.  

"Huh? What did you say?" I mutter confusedly, my eyes leaving the screen and going to the guy beside me. 

"I said, did you cum?" he repeated with a stupid fucking giddy tone, which only added to the over-excited mood he had been in since I reached him in the lobby after The Legend's set us up. Fucking virgin. 

"Yeah, sure," I reply, yet my voice was neutral, numb, not letting any kind of emotion transpire, much less the fact that I was blatantly lying, I had barely noticed he had stuck his dick in me when we started. 

Besides, ever since my last encounter, with Soldier Boy, I had been having issues. And I mean, serious issues. No matter how hard I tried, how much dirty talk I could throw in in an attempt to arouse myself despite my partner; whether I  was alone or in company; with hands or other tools, I couldn't reach the peak of it. 

And as much as incompetent men can be when it comes to bringing a girl there, it wasn't only that, there was something stirring the wrong way inside of me. Thinking about Ben while having sex was the only thing that made it slightly better, yet I always came back to reality as soon as I was close. 

I try to focus on the news report once more, but the guy's hand keeps rubbing my leg, making it difficult to concentrate.

The camera pans behind the anchor and the analyst as Soldier Boy struts onto the screen, clad in his damn patriotic costume and his signature star-spangled helmet. His face is stoic, but his eyes gleam with a sense of satisfaction as he gazes into the camera.

"He's amazing, so cool" the unnamed guy pitches in with a tone of loser-like admirance. 

I roll my eyes in annoyance, at him, at Ben, at myself, and my upper lip quivers up in a disgusted motion, but I don't say anything, despite the million words threatening to spill from my mouth. 

The rest of the news segment is a blur of the analyst praising the Supes for the job they've done, and the anchor gushing over Soldier Boy's heroic deeds. I can feel the weight of the guy's hand on my leg, and his excited babbling as he talks about how incredible the Supes are. It makes my skin crawl.

I tune out most of what they're saying, my mind wandering off to more unpalatable topics, my hand involuntarily coming to hold onto his wrist as I try to ground myself and focus on something.

The segment finally ends and the news moves on to the next story, but I can still feel the guy's gaze on me, expectant, hopeful. I force a smile and turn my head to him, plastering on a facade of enthusiasm that I don't feel as I untangle my fingers from his wrist.

 "Yeah, he's something else," I say, feigning admiration for Soldier Boy. "A true hero." The guy's face lights up with satisfaction, his hand moving further up my thigh.

I hold back a groan and sit up before beginning to get dressed, as he just laid there with that dumb smile on his face I haven't seen on anyone else but eleven-year-old fanboys.