Heteronym

Chapter 39

"Really?"

There are times where I question how much I want my life to be broadcasted to the world but then I remember almost everything I didn't want out there was already a click away on the internet. It's not that I was annoyed with people who felt entitled to know my life, I just ignored them, it just that I wondered how it would effect my bosses images of me. Then I remembered social media is from my friends and I, and no one else. If people wanted to be nosy and look up how my mother and I didn't get along or all of my court records for various rape instances, name changes, emancipation papers; so be it.

So that wasn't what made me roll my eyes about the post on Taylor's Instagram story, nor was it the content of the video. It was the caption in white font against the dim image reading 'I think my team mate is making out with my girlfriend' that caused a scoff to escape my lips. Wait to fuel rumors, Taylor. I'm sure there a plenty of people who wouldn't get the joke.

It was a hot video, I had to be completely honest. I screen recorded it just to have it. It was dark in the room but the aesthetic of our black clothes and the sound of a rap song in the back, smoke leaving our conjoined lips. One of Beck's large and slender hands was wrapped around my dainty throat, my ash blonde hair pushed behind my ear and showcasing every defined line in Beck's forearm musculature. His other hand rested on my voluptuous ass, the placement only adding to the contrast on the side of my shapely figure. I didn't care if the world saw it; it was goals as fuck.

"People are actually going to think I'm cheating on Taylor," I groaned, resting my head against Beck's shoulder as we sat in the airport at nine in the morning. Let's just say there wasn't much sleeping last night and I could definitely feel it between my legs. I think it secretly turned Beck on to watch me and know he caused the blissful stretching soreness. It was the good kind, not a stabbing pain like the ones I had experienced at other times in my life. Those made me want to slit my wrists and these made me want to repeat the night before all over again.

Now, the ones I felt right now were like heaven in a bottle, reminding me of every last thing Beck had done to my body. If I closed my eyes I could still feel my wrists bound together as my body convulsed in pure and unadulterated pleasure, begging with everything I was for Beck to make me cum over and over and over again. So much so that by the time he bent me over, my legs were trembling uncontrollably and my mind too fuzzy to string together coherent sentences through my mumbled moans of bliss. Last night was intense and I loved every second of it.

"No they won't," Beck hummed, his hand intertwined with mine. "I'm definitely a fan, though. In all honesty, I'm surprised Taylor managed to hold the phone straight, he was so plastered." It's fair to say the captain was not having fun right now. I'm sure he wasn't even completely sober yet but that didn't stop the hangover from hitting him like a brick this morning. I knew the feeling.

"By brother's going to see that. My older brother."

"Yes, the same man that brought you to the Olympics knowing full and well you just wanted to fuck an Olympian," Beck snorted, running his free right hand through his hair. As soon as we got on the plane I was sure we would pass out. "Finn likes me more than you anyway."

If there was one thing I would never question, it was my boyfriend's undying friendship with my brother.

It still felt weird being able to call Finn my brother without there being an afterthought. This whole time my father had been right there and we never realized it. Deep down it still stung that my mother had lied to me. Then again, she lied about almost everything.

"Tell me about it," I muttered, cuddling into Beck's side, his arm over my shoulders as we sat on the carpeted floor, leaning against one of the large round support columns with our opposite hands intertwined. For the ice king he was, both literally and metaphorically, Beck loved to cuddle me. Any place, any time, he would put his arm around my and hold my smaller frame against his large, warmer one. Beck was so comfortable, sometimes I saw him as more of a pillow than a boyfriend. "Can we just stay in Canada forever? I really don't want to deal with the real world anymore."