Owned by the Star Quarterback; My Dark Obsession {M*M}

Trevor's POV

"Trevor, I want to have all of you in my mouth." Sean whispered against my ear, his voice so low it felt like it was meant only for the space between us. He closed the distance slowly and deliberately, like he had all the time in the world and knew exactly what he was doing with it. The air between us felt different - heavier, charged with something I didn't have a name for but could feel on my skin like a second heartbeat.

I swallowed real hard.

"I have never done this before." My voice came out smaller than I intended.

He didn't laugh and didn't pull back either. Instead, his head dipped lower and his breath grazed the side of my neck in a way that made my whole body betray me at once. "That is not a problem," he said in that low, hoarse voice wrapping around the words like something between a promise and a dare. "You just need to follow your heart and you will get to know how much you can do."

And God help me, I almost did.

But the shocking thing was that how I ended up in Sean Pierre's bedroom and everything that followed isn't something I could easily explain. You wouldn't understand it... and you definitely wouldn't be in any position to judge me, if I didn't take you back to where it all started.

Because as much as I knew, Sean Pierre wasn't just the star quarterback. He was the high school god...The hetero heartthrob. A self-absorbed jock who moved through this school like it was built specifically for him, and honestly, sometimes it felt like it was. He was everything I hated about this place.

But somehow, at the same time, everything I wanted.

So, shall we?

...

"Sean, wait-"

I shot up from the dream so fast that my elbow nearly knocked over the water bottle sitting at the edge of my desk. Immediately I jerked my head up, my heart was slamming and my neck was damp. I pressed two fingers just below my jaw and felt my pulse running like I had just sprinted a full lap, which made zero sense because I had been sitting in 'AP Literature' for the last forty minutes doing absolutely nothing except apparently dreaming about Sean Pierre.

The air conditioning was on, yet I was still sweating.

For a full second, I just sat there and stared at the board like if I focused hard enough on the chapter heading still written in Mr. Calloway's handwriting, I could rewind the last thirty seconds and start them over differently.

But then, the silence in the classroom had already changed its texture. It wasn't the half-asleep, phone-scrolling, nobody-is-paying-attention kind of silence. It was the kind where twenty-something people are all holding the same breath and waiting to see what happens next.

I could feel their stares of every single one of them even without looking.

I was sitting in