AssoonasIshut Blair’s office door, I quickly make my way to the restaurant bathroom. What the fuck am I, seventeen? I can’t even remember a time when I came in my pants. I wouldn’t have been embarrassed if she saw, but I don’t need the little witch knowing the hold she has over me. Even that small bit of fun fueled me more than orgies have in the past. I feel upbeat and energized. I’m going to need as much of her as I can possibly get. I can’t even imagine what it will feel like when I finally fuck her.
I didn’t even come here to touch her. I came to ask her on a date. Like some kind of refined gentleman. But her stress was clear, and I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to relax her and make her feel better.
I’m not sure what the fuck is happening to me, and I’m not sure I like it. I’m a demon, for heaven’s sake. It’s not like this could go anywhere. I don’t know any demons who are with any other supernatural beings. It just doesn’t work when you’re dashing back and forth between the realms.
I groan as I take off my jeans and then my underwear that’s wet with my release. With dismay, I take those off and throw them in the trashcan in the corner. I put my jeans back on and the texture against my dick isn’t great. I look at my watch, knowing I don’t have enough time to go back home and make it to dinner on time with Ryan.
With an odd feeling in my chest, I leave Hex and walk down the street. The place we are meeting is only a few blocks away. I portaled here so I didn’t notice the bright yellow flyers plastered all over Main Street on my way here.
I get closer to one and take a look. I’m shocked when I see Ryan’s face on the poster, calling him an untrustworthy pussy hound.
I know I shouldn’t laugh, but I do. The poster is fucking funny. I crinkle the one in my hands and throw it in the trash with one last chuckle, and I wonder who he pissed off. I wonder if I should ask him about it at dinner, and if he would even tell me the truth. I’m sure that dinner isn’t going to be as pleasant as I originally hoped. The flyers probably already have him in a pissy mood. I genuinely consider rescheduling.
My feelings about how I’ve treated Ryan are complicated enough. I’ve tried to be there for major events, like graduations and some birthdays. But I didn’t feel like he wanted me there, and I hate to say it, I never really allowed myself to deeply care for him. How are you supposed to form a connection with someone you created who you will outlive many life times? If things were different, maybe I could stomach it. Our relationship has been near non-existent out of my own fear. But that’s on me, not him. I need to make it right. What that entails, I have no fucking clue. But I need this nagging feeling in my stomach to go away.
The bell chimes over the door of the Italian place as I enter. It’s cozy with only about a dozen tables covered in checkered pattern tablecloths. I notice Ryan immediately and walk over to the table and take a seat.
“Ryan, you look good.”
“Thanks,” he says dryly. He looks worse for wear.
“I saw the posters. If you want to reschedule, we can.”
“We’re already here,” he says, picking up his menu, not making eye contact with me.
“Do you know who put them up?”
“Yeah, I paid someone to go around town and take them down.”
“Do you need any help dealing with the person who did this?”
He scoffs and takes a drink of his water that was already sitting on the table.
“I haven’t needed you before. Why would I start now?” I nod, because his feelings are valid. I’ve been absent, unloving, and uninterested.
“I deserve that.”
He looks up from his menu with wide eyes, and shock plastered over his face.
“I wanted to meet up because I want to do better by you, Ryan. I know it’s too late to ever be considered your dad. I did that, I broke that relationship. It’s nothing you did. But I would like it if we could try to become friends.”
“You want to be my friend?”
“Only if that’s something you want. I would understand if you would rather continue the way things are.”
“Can I think about it?”
“Of course,” I say as the waitress stops by the table.
“What will it be, gentlemen?” she asks, giving Ryan a bright smile.
“I’ll have the spinach ravioli,” he says, handing her the menu.
“Veal parmesan, and two beers,” I say.
“Was it a girl?” I ask Ryan as the waitress leaves.
“Yeah, some bitch I was dating,” he says, taking another sip of water.
