I growled and jumped in front of Atlas. Luckily, my desk was set up high to give Atlas ample room and in no way did the camera catch the size of his dick.
If the platform caught a glimpse of that, I'd be slapped with a permanent ban faster than you could say "terms of service violation."
I spread out my arms to protect what was rightfully mine, to protect Atlas from any other eyes seeing his majestic body. “Babe…” I pretended to whine and stared up at him with wide eyes. “You weren’t supposed to show yourself yet. Your cosplay costume is not finished!”
Atlas cocked his head at an unnatural angle, then jerked it the other way like a bird studying something curious. His enormous wings twitched and fluttered behind him with a life of their own, sending small currents of air across my skin. Every movement screamed inhuman.
“Wha—”
I turned around and pulled him down for a kiss. “Play along, or you just exposed monsters to thousands of people. They could be taking pictures or recording right now!”
Atlas nodded, his eyes growing redder by the minute.
“We are going to a con later this year, he’s planning to go as Mothman, isn’t he fabulous?” I showed off his wings, touching them delicately.
Altas shut his eyes and groaned.
Whoops.
TeaBag eyed me suspiciously. “Yes, a con,” he drawled. “What’s your name, pal, and why haven’t we heard your name on the stream before? Is she ashamed to mention you?”
Atlas leaned toward the camera, but I planted my palm against his chest, keeping him back. "Well, well, TeaBag," I said with a smirk. "You must be quite the dedicated viewer if you've kept track of who I do and don't mention in my personal life."
TeaBag's face turned crimson. Gone was the cocky streamer persona he'd cultivated—replaced by genuine irritation that cracked through his carefully constructed image. “I don’t give a fuck about who you date, I just think it’s funny you hide a significant other. Is it because you think your ratings will drop?”
Chat exploded with supportive messages. "MOTH DADDY!" someone typed in all caps. "PROTECT HIM AT ALL COSTS," another chimed in. The stream overlay lit up with donation alerts and new subscriber notifications. "Drop the cosplay tutorial!" demanded one viewer, while others begged to know if Atlas had his own streaming channel they could follow.
Hmm, hecoulddo that.
Instead of riling up the baby TeaBag more, I squeezed Atlas’ hand and pointed to the chair on the side of the desk. He shook his head and crawled back under the desk.
Mkay?
I leaned toward my webcam with a saccharine smile. "Ready to actually play the game, TeaBag? Or would you prefer to keep making excuses?"
His nostrils flared as he yanked his headset into position. "Whatever. Hope your boyfriend's wings don't get in the way when I absolutely destroy you."
We’ll see.
An hour into our battle, neither of us had gained the upper hand. The chat exploded with messages while TeaBag's constant trash-talking drove Atlas to nestle himself deeper between my thighs, his mouth hovering dangerously close to where one small touch would send me over the edge.
My brain was split by the throbbing between my legs and the urgent need to crush TeaBag before he could claim victory.
Atlas groaned against my thigh, the vibration traveling through my body like an electric current. My leg draped over his shoulder as his release spilled warm and slick against my skin, marking me in the most primal way.
I lost count how many times he stroked himself.
Thank God for noise-canceling tech. Still, I couldn't ignore how each time Atlas exhaled against my skin, a wave of heat rippled through me, threatening my concentration with every warm breath that ghosted between my thighs.
“My soul, your scent is becoming too much.”
My teeth clenched as I fought to keep my focus on the screen. Both hands gripped my controller while onscreen, the game'sonce-cheerful landscape of pastels and light had transformed into a scorched battlefield that wouldn't look out of place in the ninth circle of Dante's Inferno.
Atlas deserved my attention. His monstrous form must be in agony, and my own need had become a physical ache. Every pixel on that screen was a barrier keeping me from what I truly wanted. To wrap myself around him, to feel his inhuman warmth against my skin. The game had become torture, each second a throbbing reminder of what waited just beneath my desk.
It didn’t help that TeaBag was laughing, commenting on every move I made while working on his army to press forward on mine.
"Come on, Kassie," TeaBag sneered. "You're playing like you've got something else on your mind."
