“Do you feel better?”
I narrowed my eyes.
“What do you mean?”
He leaned forward, staring at me so intently I could feel his gaze burning holes into my retinas.
“Do you feel better now that you’ve come?”
He looked me up and down before leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest.
“Yeah. I do, actually. But I didn’t do it on purpose.” I frowned, hoping he wasn’t implying that this meant I failed his little test.
“What was the dream about?” he asked, and my eyebrows raised in surprise.
“I don’t remember.”
The twinkle in his eyes suddenly seemed sinister.
“You don’t remember?”
“Nope,” I said, popping the ‘p.’
“Well. I’m not surprised, but Iamdisappointed.” He sighed, getting up.
Shock exploded through me, and I shot to my feet in outrage.
“What do you mean?! I can’t help a wet dream!” I cried out, chasing him out of the shack, refusing to let myself get distracted by how ripped his back was as he peeled off his T-shirt.
“I really thought you had more self-control than that. Guess I was wrong,” he lamented as he made his way to the lean-to and started sliding plates onto the bar stationed on the bench press.
“Self-control?! I was asleep! How was I supposed to control that?”
He just shrugged.
“This isbullshit,Riddick! I didn’t fail your little test. I didn’t jerk off! And frankly, I think it’s fucking weird that you even made that rule! What does jerking off have to do with surfing!?”
This was it.
This was the Mr. Miyagi moment where he was going to tell me that by not beating off, I was teaching myself how to beat the waves off or some epic, deep shit like that…
He paused and examined me the way he always did. No one had ever stared at me with the intensity that Riddick did. It was like he was peeling the skin off my bones with his gaze.
“Who said it had anything to do with surfing?” he asked, his tone completely flat and unreadable.
“Wh-what?”
“You heard me, Finn. I won’t repeat myself.”
“If it doesn’t have anything to do with surfing, why did you tell me I can’t masturbate!?”
“I never told you that you couldn’t masturbate, Finn. You’re the one that said that.”
“Yeah, but… youjusttold me you were disappointed in me for coming in my sleep! I’m sick of whatever these fucking head games are, Riddick. Are you into me or not? Because yesterday it sure as shit seemed like you were into me, and now you’re gaslighting me into thinking that never happened.”
There. I did it. I just straight up asked him.
His usual stone-cold expression shuttered, and a look of remorse passed across his features.
