Serpent's Deceit (Entry 007)

 

I have not talked to Dax after that classroom incident. It is not like I am still mad at him. It has just left my mind that I should contact him or something.

However, that also does not mean that his happy face or chirpy personality is something normal. If anything, that is so out of character for him. It might suit me, definitely not him. 

But now that is exactly what he is doing. He is taking me to the usual cafe where we go on a date. He is the one who has informed me about it. He has also informed me about random things that I have no connection to, which sounds so much like gossiping. I have no idea what is going on.

Has seeing me with Rick affected his brain in a certain way? I don't know. He is aware of our history. It was him I meant when I told Rick that I had feelings for someone else. We did not start dating yet, but I already gave him my heart. After starting our relationship, I have never mentioned the incident to him in detail. But he has been aware of it, as it has been a gossip topic for a long time. I have never gotten the chance to officially introduce these two either, but I am sure Rick knows that Dax is my boyfriend. Our school is not that big, and everyone knows shits about everyone.

“Come in,” Dax says, opening the door for me and smiling. I stare at him, dumbfounded once again. One year of dating, this is probably the first time he has opened a door for me. Seriously, what is happening?

He tilts his head, gesturing to me to move forward. Hesitantly, I take a step into the busy restaurant. 

As the residents of a small town, we get the privilege to choose from an option of three eating places when it comes down to that. Among them, one has been shut down for a month now. This one has better cooking. So, it is always overcrowded. We have excluded Suzie's place from the three options. That place is not actually a restaurant. It is more like a place for friendly hangouts with snacks. 

There is another reason why that place is not an option as our dating spot. My friends hate my boyfriend, though they do not say it to my face. So, it is not really a great choice to take him where my friends and I usually hang out.

Dax has made an early reservation, which is again something out of his character. So, we get a booth easily despite the crowd. 

“What's going on?” I ask as soon as we put our asses on the seats. He does not look startled by my sudden interrogation. His lips still hold that small smile, which has now started looking more plastered than natural, as his eyes sweep around the restaurant once before settling on me. “What should be going on?”

I shrug, making a vague gesture with my hand. “I don't know. You're behaving very……..weird. So, maybe you know.”

“Oh, I'm behaving weird?” He questions. At the same time, a waiter stops by our table asking if we have ordered the special platter. After hearing a negative answer, he moves on. I return my attention to my boyfriend. 

“What do you—”

“Let's order first.”

Both of us speak at the same time, and mine gets interrupted mid-sentence. I open my mouth to protest, but the rushing waiters among the crowd catch my eye over his shoulder. His suggestion is a valid one. So, I agree to compile without complaints.

There is a queue before the counter. We wait for our turns. Neither of us speaks a word to the other, meanwhile. He has an arm around my waist all the time, not tightly holding, nor lightly wandering. When it is our turn, we order two chicken fries, wedges and two colas. Surprisingly, he pays the whole bill. 

Once we go back to our booth, I do not say anything more. However, I keep staring at him. He has pulled out his phone and is scrolling through it like nothing is wrong. Sensing my eyes on him, he glances at me.

“What?” He asks when I refuse to answer his questioning gaze. I shrug again, leaning back on my seat and putting one leg over the other. “That's what I've been asking as well, in case you haven't heard.” 

A chuckle leaves his mouth. It might be just me, but that sounds strange. Shaking his head, he puts down the phone and closes his hands to focus his attention on me. After spending a good amount of time checking me out, he asks a pretty random question. “I have been thinking for a while. What does a perfect partner mean to you?”

I feel my body getting rigid. That is obviously not a random question. That is a question he has thought through before asking. Did that question arise after seeing Rick and me? Obviously. Maybe it will be better if I explain the situation to him. 

So, I begin. “If it's about—”

He shakes his head, cutting me off. “It's about nothing. I'm just wondering. Can you not answer it?”

That infuriating fake smile is still on his lips. His voice has a manipulative undertone to it, and so does his expression. I know he is manipulating me, but I have no other choice. He knows that. He knows exactly where he has got me.

Obviously, I stutter when I try to answer. “I—Yeah, of course.” Taking a deep breath, I reply with the best response that comes to my mind at that exact moment. “A perfect partner is simply who I am with currently. I wouldn't be with someone who isn't perfect in my eyes.”

“Doesn't look like that.” He slips up. Or maybe he acts like he slips up. Nonetheless, he continues as if I haven't heard that. “Have you ever regretted the choices you left behind…to be with me?”

Oh, God. Here he goes. I have known from the beginning that this is where it is going. It has triggered his insecurity. I try to explain once again. “Dax, please. I'm sorry. I didn't—”

“Just answer my question.” He cuts me off again. It is getting annoying, but I am the one who is guilty here. So, I answer with a sigh. “I don't have many regrets in my life. Dating you is definitely not one of them.”

“Prove it,” he commands. I do not get it at first. A second later, it registers in my mind. I feel my face heating up instantly.

“What?” I inquire, just to be sure that I am not misunderstanding it. With the smile gone and a serious expression replacing it, he looks at me dead in the eyes and repeats the same thing, emphasising each word more. “Prove. It.”

I glance around the restaurant once, checking the people. The crowd has not lessened, it seems. I look back at Dax. “How do I—”

“You know how.” That “serene” smile on his face has returned as a lopsided grin now. It also confirms my doubt. I gesture to the crowd around us. “Dax, there are people here.”

He shrugs, not bothering to take his eyes off of me or check the crowd. “We have done worse.”

I feel the heat spreading to my ears now. He is right. We have been freaky in public before as well. Still, I try to protest. “But not when it was this open.”

He does not say anything for a few seconds. But his eyes are on me. I look away, with a burning face and ringing ear. Then his question reaches my ear, slow and taunting. “Do you not want to?”

I grit my teeth and roll my eyes. He has got me right there. He knows it too. Do I not want to? What kind of dramatic question is this? Of course, I want to. Anything freaky, I am in. The same goes for him. And obviously, both of us know each other enough to know that too.

He laughs loudly, a genuine reaction after a long time. “Thought so,” he whispers, pulling a palm under his chin. 

I look over at the counter. A waiter should be arriving soon. If I do it now—

“Don't think about delaying.” He offers me a fat grin when I look back at him. “Your highness,” he adds intentionally as he knows it will set me off. I bite my lip, adrenaline already buzzing under my skin. “What about the waiter?”

“He won't,” comes his reply, leaving no more room for discussion. Taking another glance at the counter, I scoot closer to him. He leans back slightly, sliding his hips forward, making space for me. He is not wearing a belt today. I pop open his button with a quiet flick, then draw the zipper down.

Well, it looks like he is not wearing underwear either. He is pretty excited about the situation. His cock springs free, thick and hard, as if it has been aching for a release for so long. My fingers curl around the base instinctively, feeling the heat pulsing beneath my touch. I lean in, running my tongue across the tip once, tasting him. A sharp groan escapes his throat. I feel him twitch against my palm, and a sly smirk curves my lips. I do it again, slower this time, my tongue circling lazily around the head.

“Don’t.” He breathes, voice tight. His hand drops to the back of my neck, his grip light but firm, a subtle warning.

I glance up at him through my lashes. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t fucking tease me,” he hisses, his jaw clenched, the grip tightening just slightly in my hair, warning me.

I flash him a sweet, devilish smile. “Or what?”

“Imma bend you over on this table and fuck you raw.” His voice is like a low growl now, which hits me straight to my core. “Do you want that?” 

I…can't say if I actually hate the idea. That does not mean I am preferring it either. I just cannot decide. However, he does not look like he will give me the time to come up with a decision on that matter. He looks like he will actually do that if I delay more. 

So, like the obedient little tease I am, I lower my head and take him in.  He exhales sharply, hips jerking as the warmth of my mouth surrounds him. I slide down until the tip brushes the back of my throat; it always does. My fingers dig into his thighs for balance as I hold him there, letting him feel the warmth, the pressure, and the control I have at this moment.

A second passes before I start to move.

Slowly at first. Hollowing my cheeks on the way up. Swirling my tongue on the way down. Every inch I take is a silent answer to that warning he has given. Every soft moan I make is one kind of rebellion, as I still have control of the situation.

His breathing gets heavier, body tensing as I work him. Every subtle shift of my tongue, every slow suck draws him deeper into the sensation. I can feel him getting closer with each passing second.

And then—

"Excuse me, sir."

The waiter.

I freeze, my stomach dropping. For a split second, I consider pulling away, but his hand tightens in my hair, hard enough to keep me steady.

Unlike me, he seems prepared for it. Without missing a beat, he casually grabs his jacket draped over the back of the booth and throws it across my body, concealing me under the fabric like I am simply resting in his lap.

The waiter probably gives us a questioning look because I hear Dax saying. “She’s… not feeling well. Little dizzy from the heat.”

As the jacket is draped over my head, I cannot clearly see what is going on. I hear the clinking sounds of utensils, meaning the waiter is probably setting down the plates. He responds with a professional tone, “Ah. I see.”

For some reason, I feel like he knows exactly what is going on under the jacket. It is not just an assumption. I am sure he knows.

Another thought sparks in my mind. I do not see a reason as to why I am not continuing. I have control here, and no one has stopped me.

The thrill courses through me along with the thought. My lips curl into a mischievous smile as I resume my work. With slow and teasing strokes, my tongue flicks over the sensitive tip.

I hear his breath catching, and feel him twitching. His grip in my hair tightens, gripping a fistful of it now.

The waiter speaks at the same time as I take him in again. “Shall I bring some water for her?”

His voice cracks faintly as he responds, “No—” He clears his throat to keep his cool. “No, thank you. We’ll manage.”

I swirl my tongue lazily, circling him while he struggles to keep himself steady. He has brought it upon himself, not me. Now it is his problem to deal with. 

I still hear the waiter shuffling around doing God knows what. He asks suddenly, “You’re sure?” 

I do not hear any response from Dax, so I am assuming he has nodded or something. I hum softly around him, letting the vibration ripple through his length. His hips jerk slightly beneath me, and I know he is close to losing it.

I hear the waiter saying, “Very well. Enjoy your meal.”

As the footsteps retreat away, I increase my pace, bobbing my head up and down continuously, my throat relaxing to accommodate his full length. My hand works the base as my mouth moves faster and tighter.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He chants like a prayer, breathing growing ragged, each shallow breath telling me just how close he is.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—”

Before he can finish speaking, it explodes in my mouth. I push him deep, taking him to the back of my throat, swallowing around him as he lets go with a low, broken groan. His nails dig into the skin of my neck as his body shudders beneath my hands, his release hot and heavy on my tongue as I swallow, not missing a single drop.

Pushing away the jacket, I pull my head up, wiping my lips and meeting his heavy gaze. His head is against the booth, with a flushed face and heaving chest. As soon as our eyes meet, he lets out a breathless smirk. 

“Now it's time to enjoy our food,” I announce, pulling the fried chicken towards myself and biting on it, enjoying the crumbs along with the special sauce in my mouth.

One hour later-

“What am I doing before your house?” I ask, staring up at the two-storey house before us as Dax kisses up my neck. The building looks like it is one step away from crumbling down. Its walls are mostly dark and stained, with most of the windows cracked or missing. The front door barely hangs on its hinges, groaning in protest every time it is opened or closed. 

The house has survived a brutal fire three years ago, the same fire that took Dax’s parents. It's a long and sentimental story, but if I say it in short, this house is the only thing that is left with Dax. By nature, he is not letting it go despite the bad condition of the house and the shitty neighbourhood.

He whispers against my ear, “I don't know. You're the one who tagged along.”

After the restaurant freakness, he has been surprisingly affectionate. His hands would not leave my body, and his lips my face. We have come out and walked down the street this way. The public display of affection has definitely earned some stares from the passers-by, but none of us really cares. I have not honestly noticed where we are going, and somehow we have ended up before his home.

I frown, acting hurt by his words. “You should have told me that you didn't want me to tag along. I'd better get going then.”

Pushing him away from me, I turn around to go back the way to get out of here. Before I can even take a step forward, he pulls me around my waist, and my back hits his chest. His warm breath fans on my neck before his lips make contact with my ear again. “Did I tell you to go away?”

A giggle leaves my mouth as his lips tickle me. “But you didn't want me here either.”

He does not stop. His voice vibrates against my skin, tickling me more. “Did I tell you that?”

I manage to shake my head once over his attacks and my giggles. He whispers again, “Then stay with me.”

“Let’s enter now, then,” I say in a ‘duh’ tone, pushing him away again. He frowns in protest, eyes glazed with desire when they meet mine. It feels like he would not pay heed to my words for a second. However, he actually listens, pulling me by my hand as we walk up to the door and open it. 

He pauses in the doorway, staring inside the house through the gap that has been created; the door is not even opened all the way. I follow his gaze and realise the problem. The light is on already. No one lives here besides him. Dax has turned the light off in the morning. He is always extra careful about these things. So, what's going on? Has someone broken in?

Our confusion is cleared instantly when a male voice reaches us from inside the house. “Long time no see, boy."