Post-Concert Blues Pt. 3

The dorm room was quiet, save for the muffled hum of the city beyond the window. The faint glow of the desk lamp cast long, lazy shadows across the walls. You sat on the edge of your bed, your knee bouncing slightly. Anxiety, or maybe something else, gnawed at the edges of your mind, but you shoved it down, focusing on the task at hand.

Liam stood nearby, his arms crossed over his chest, his weight leaning into the wall. His expression was neutral, almost bored, but the slight twitch of his jaw betrayed his discomfort.

“You ready...?” His voice was casual, but there was an edge of awkwardness to it, the same awkwardness that hung in the air between you like a thick fog.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah, let’s just get this over with.”

“Cool.” Liam said, stepping closer and lowering himself onto the edge of your bed. He leaned back slightly, his body language deliberately casual, like he was trying to make this less awkward.

It didn’t work.

Your fingers flexed, your stomach twisting. For reasons you couldn’t quite place, your mouth felt dry. It wasn’t nerves, exactly—more like an itch you couldn’t scratch. You shook your head slightly, trying to refocus.

Reaching forward, you fumbled with the button on his jeans, the small click louder than it should’ve been. Your fingers brushed the zipper, and you felt the cool metal against your skin. It sent a shiver down your spine—not a big one, but enough to make you clench your jaw. Liam shifted slightly, raising his hips just enough to make it easier for you.

“Thanks,” you muttered, the sarcasm in your voice barely masking the embarrassment coursing through you.

“Anytime,” he replied, his voice flat.

With the zipper undone, you tugged at the waistband of his jeans and boxers, pulling them down just enough. Your eyes stayed glued to your hands, refusing to look at him directly. You swallowed hard as you reached out, your fingers wrapping around him.

The warmth and texture made you grimace internally. It wasn’t the first time, hell it wasn't even the third time, but it still made your stomach churn. A small part of you wondered why it always felt so… distracting. Like your mind wasn’t entirely your own in moments like this.

Liam let out a sharp breath through his nose, his body tensing momentarily before relaxing again. “You don’t have to look so… disgusted, you know,” he said, his tone almost teasing but not quite.

“Kind of hard not to,” you shot back, your voice strained.

The movements came easier now, even if you hated admitting it. Your hand found a rhythm, the motion smooth and mechanical, while your thoughts drifted against your will. You couldn’t help but notice how Liam’s chest rose and fell with each breath, the way his shoulders looked tense but somehow relaxed at the same time. You shoved the thought away, focusing instead on the slight cramp forming in your wrist.

“Still grossed out?” Liam asked, breaking the silence. His voice was quieter now, less sharp.

“Obviously,” you muttered, refusing to look at him.

He let out a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating low in his throat. “Just checking.”

Minutes passed, the tension in the room palpable. Liam’s breathing grew heavier, his body shifting slightly under your touch. You didn’t dare look at him, keeping your gaze fixed on the space just past his shoulder.

Liam’s breathing grew heavier, the muscles in his thighs tensing as his hips shifted slightly under your touch. You could feel the telltale signs of him nearing the edge, and the realization made your stomach twist.

“You’re… getting good at this,” Liam muttered, his voice low and laced with an awkward edge.

“Shut up,” you snapped, your cheeks burning.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating in his chest. “Just saying.”

A strange restlessness stirred inside you, something deep and unshakable. Your jaw clenched, and you found yourself biting the inside of your cheek—an **** effort to quell the nagging sensation. The rhythmic motion of your hand felt almost hypnotic, and for a fleeting moment, your thoughts wandered to how soft his skin felt.

You shook your head slightly, trying to snap yourself out of it.

“Almost there,” Liam muttered, his voice strained.

You didn’t respond, your focus narrowing as his hips bucked slightly against your hand. The sound of his breath hitching sent an involuntary shiver down your spine, and you hated yourself for it.

Then it happened. His body tensed completely, and a low grunt escaped his lips as warmth spilled over your hand. You grimaced, pulling back immediately and reaching for the tissues on the nightstand.

“Thanks,” Liam said, his voice rough but softer now.

“Yeah, sure,” you muttered, wiping your hand clean with a speed born of pure necessity.

Liam adjusted his jeans, leaning back with a sigh. “At least it’s less awkward now, right?”

You shot him a glare. “Speak for yourself.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head as he stood up, heading toward the bathroom.

As the door closed behind him, you let out a long breath, your shoulders slumping. The faint itch in the back of your mind lingered, unaddressed and unacknowledged, but impossible to ignore.

You stared at the ceiling, trying to piece together your thoughts. Each time this happened, it felt less alien but no less humiliating. The curse, the trials—it was all wearing you down in ways you didn’t want to admit.

Another night down. Another reminder of how far you’d fallen.

The dorm room was dark, lit only by the faint, pale glow of the moon filtering through the blinds. The quiet hum of the city outside served as an ambient backdrop, broken occasionally by the distant sound of laughter or a passing car. You lay on your back, staring at the ceiling, your thoughts a tangled mess that refused to let you drift off.

The bed beneath you felt impossibly small tonight, the sheets too warm and too cold all at once. You kicked them off, then pulled them back on again, frustration bubbling in your chest. Turning onto your side, you hugged your pillow close, trying to find some semblance of comfort, but your mind refused to cooperate.

The third trial. Seducing Damian Kane.

Your stomach twisted just thinking about it. The mere idea of getting close to someone like him felt like trying to scale a cliff in the middle of a storm. From the little Aphrodite had shared, Damian sounded like someone who’d chew you up and spit you out without a second thought. A man loyal to Ares—hypermasculine, cutthroat, and disdainful of anything remotely feminine.

Great. Just great.

You flipped onto your other side, your pillow now uncomfortably warm. The rhythmic ticking of the clock on your desk seemed to grow louder, like an incessant metronome marking the seconds you weren’t sleeping.

Damian’s image loomed in your mind—not that you’d ever seen him, but you could imagine him clearly enough. Probably tall, broad-shouldered, with a sharp jawline and piercing eyes that looked like they could see right through you. The kind of man who commanded a room with a single glance. The kind of man who would see right through a façade, no matter how well-crafted.

And you? You were supposed to seduce him? Get him to fall for you—not just as Luna, but as someone he desired both romantically and sexually?

Your chest tightened at the thought, a mix of anxiety and something else you couldn’t quite place. It was like a weight pressing down on you, making it harder to breathe.

Rolling onto your back again, you stared at the ceiling, your hands resting on your stomach. The smooth fabric of your tank top felt oddly soothing against your skin, a detail you noticed despite yourself. It was the little things like that, the subtle shifts in your senses and awareness, that you tried not to dwell on but couldn’t quite ignore.

Your legs shifted beneath the sheets, your thighs brushing against each other. The sensation was faintly distracting, a gentle reminder of the changes Aphrodite’s curse had wrought.

This is ridiculous, you thought, squeezing your eyes shut. I just need to sleep.

But every time you tried to empty your mind, another thought crept in to fill the void. How would you even approach Damian? What would he expect from you?

The thought made your stomach churn, a wave of discomfort washing over you. You weren’t supposed to be thinking like that. This was a mission, a trial, a curse you were trying to break—not some ridiculous romantic comedy.

You sat up slightly, running a hand through your hair. The restless energy in your body wouldn’t let up, and your thoughts kept circling back to one frustrating conclusion: you were never going to fall asleep like this.

And then, the idea crept in.

At first, you brushed it aside, shaking your head as if to physically dislodge the thought. But the longer you sat there, staring into the dark, the more tempting it became. Maybe… maybe if you just…

You sank back against the pillows, your face heating at the very notion. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done it before, but lately, everything about it felt different. More complicated. More…

Nope. Not going there.

But your body had other ideas, that strange, gnawing itch from earlier making itself known again. You shifted uncomfortably, your thighs brushing together under the covers.

It’s just to relax, you told yourself, your hand hesitating as it trailed down your stomach. It’s not a big deal. It’s perfectly normal.

Your mind was still swirling, teetering between the anxiety of the third trial and the strange, restless energy thrumming through your body. You flipped onto your side again, frustration simmering as the clock ticked on. Every time you tried to push the thoughts away, they came back with even more insistence—Aphrodite’s smirk, Liam’s knowing glances, Damian Kane’s imaginary, steely eyes.

And underneath it all, there was that feeling again—the inexplicable itch. A deep-seated, gnawing need that refused to be ignored. It wasn’t just a distraction anymore; it was becoming unbearable.

Your cheeks flushed hot as the idea crossed your mind again. The thought of doing something to take the edge off, even if it felt mortifying.

No one’s awake. No one will know.

The thought echoed in your head, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you sat up, the sheets pooling around your waist. With a shaky breath, you reached into the nighstand, fumbling for the box tucked away. You hated acknowledging its presence, let alone using it, but it had become… necessary, for moments like this.

Your fingers brushed against the smooth surface of the box, and you pulled it out with a resigned sigh. As you opened it, your heart thudded against your ribs.

There it was: sleek, lavender, and as embarrassing as the day you’d got it from Liam.

You hesitated, the weight of what you were about to do pressing down on you. But the itch, that unrelenting need, was stronger. You swallowed hard, setting the toy on the bed as you lay back against the pillows, trying to find a comfortable position.

The room felt stifling now, your skin prickling with heat as you slid a hand down, tugging your panties aside. The cool air against your skin sent a shiver through you, your breath hitching as you tried to ignore the rush of sensations.

You reached for the toy, your fingers trembling slightly as you bit your lip, praying Liam wouldn’t suddenly wake up for some inexplicable reason.

The first touch was tentative, almost experimental, as you pressed the smooth silicone against yourself. A soft gasp escaped your lips, unbidden, and your free hand clenched the sheets as the vibrations sent a jolt through your body.

You tried to focus on the sensations, letting them drown out the noise in your head. The tension in your shoulders began to ease as you moved the toy in slow, deliberate motions, your breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

This is fine. This is normal. Just… get it over with.

But even as you thought it, you couldn’t ignore the faintest twinge of something else—a flicker of enjoyment that made your cheeks burn even hotter. You pressed the toy against yourself more firmly, the vibrations drawing out a quiet whimper that you quickly stifled with your hand.

Your free hand drifted to your mouth, almost without thinking. Fingers brushed against your lips, and you froze, a strange shiver running through you. Before you could stop yourself, you parted your lips, slipping two fingers inside.

It was automatic, as if your body had decided for you. Your tongue brushed against the tips, the texture oddly comforting, and you found yourself sucking gently. A flush of heat spread across your cheeks as you realized what you were doing, but the sensation was strangely soothing, almost grounding.

What the hell is wrong with me? you thought, but even as the question surfaced, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

Your fingers slid deeper, and a soft, involuntary hum escaped your throat. The motion felt… familiar, though you couldn’t place why. You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the rush of embarrassment that came with the act, but the combination of relief from both ends was far too satisfying to ignore.

The nagging feeling eased, just slightly, but it wasn’t enough. You pulled your fingers free, your lips wet and tingling as you stared at the ceiling, frustration bubbling up again.

Pulling the dildo out of yourself with trembling hands, you lay back against the pillows, the weight of it in your grasp oddly reassuring.

Your lips parted slightly as you brought the toy closer, the smooth surface cool against your skin. A rush of heat spread across your face as you hesitated, the absurdity of the situation dawning on you.

But the need—that need—was louder. Without thinking further, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to the silicone.

The first touch sent a strange jolt through you. Your tongue darted out instinctively, tracing the surface, and your breath hitched at the odd sense of satisfaction it brought.

Why does this feel so… good?

Your cheeks burned as you took more of the toy into your mouth, the act automatic yet bizarrely soothing. The smooth texture glided easily, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the rhythmic motion.

The itch began to fade, replaced by a strange sense of relief. Your lips moved over the toy slowly, experimentally, and your breath quickened as your tongue traced its length.

You pulled back after a moment, gasping softly as you stared at the now-glistening toy in your hand. The haze in your mind had cleared just a bit, enough for the embarrassment to flood back in.

What the hell did I just do?

Trying not to get out of the mood, you quickly slipped the saliva-slick dildo back into your pussy, the sensations flooding back into your head as you resumed a steady pace.

Your legs tensed, your toes curling under the sheets as the sensations built, wave after wave of heat spreading through your body. The toy moved with a steady rhythm now, each pass sending sparks up your spine.

You bit down on your lip harder, **** to stay quiet as your breathing grew ragged. The toy’s sensations seemed to match the pounding of your heart, each hum echoing in your ears as the tension coiled tighter and tighter within you.

Finally, the release came—sharp, overwhelming, and all-encompassing. Your body arched off the bed, your mouth falling open in a silent cry as the tension broke, leaving you breathless and trembling.

You collapsed back against the pillows, the toy slipping from your grasp as you stared up at the ceiling, chest heaving. For a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own breathing, the room spinning slightly as the aftershocks rippled through you.

As the haze began to clear, embarrassment flooded in, hot and sharp. You quickly reached for the toy, fumbling to toss it back into the box and shoving it into the nightstand.

Pulling the sheets up to your chin, you closed your eyes tightly, willing the shame away.

Never again.

But even as you thought it, you couldn’t ignore the faint sense of relief that had settled over you. Your body finally felt quiet, the restless energy dissipating for now. Sleep still felt far off, but at least the storm in your head had calmed.

You turned onto your side, clutching the pillow close and trying to focus on the steady rhythm of your breathing. Eventually, your eyes grew heavy, and the world began to blur as sleep finally claimed you.