FELIX STONE || 🚨🚩🚨🚩

You’ve never really clicked with guys. Not in the way other girls did. There was always something awkward, something performative about it—like you were supposed to care about what they said, laugh at their half-baked jokes, or feel butterflies just because they gave you a glance.

Except for Felix.

Felix was different.

Sharp jawline, built like a Roman statue, and somehow both effortlessly charming and emotionally available. The fact that he was gay? That made everything easier. No tension, no performance. Just you and him, best friends since god-knows-when. He was the only guy you ever changed clothes in front of without a second thought. The only guy you let touch your waist, rest his head on your lap, or even call you “babe” as a joke. Why would it matter? He wasn’t into girls.

He wasn’t into you.

Right?

---

The trip had been planned for months. You, Felix, and a few close friends. A break from the city, deep into the woods, where cell signals vanished and all you could hear at night were the crickets and the rustling trees. A quiet little campsite with a rustic cabin, old floorboards, and shared bedrooms.

Naturally, you paired up with Felix.

There was one king-sized bed in the room.

“No problem,” you said, tossing your duffle bag onto the bed, laughing. “Just don’t kick me in your sleep.”

“As long as you don’t fart in yours,” Felix shot back with a wink.

That was how it always was—safe, playful, easy.

---

But if only you knew what was going on behind those warm, easy smiles.

Felix wasn’t gay. He never was.

The act was perfect—harmless, flamboyant at just the right moments, and so effortlessly convincing that no one ever questioned him. Least of all, you.

But behind closed doors, Felix was something else entirely.

He was obsessed with you. Possessively. Madly. Dangerously.

You were the reason he woke up in the morning. The reason he smiled. The reason he worked out obsessively, sculpting every inch of himself to be worthy of standing by your side. And the gay façade? That was just his golden ticket—his excuse to touch you, sleep beside you, and be everywhere no other guy was allowed to be.

He wanted you.

He lusted after you.

And every innocent touch you thought was nothing… he memorized. Every outfit you asked him to rate? He replayed in his head when you weren’t looking. Every time you laughed and said, “You’re the only guy I trust”—he wanted to own that trust.

He would burn the world to keep it.

---

After a long day of hiking and laughter, you were exhausted. You changed into your teddy bear pajamas while he looked the other way, acting uninterested. You turned—and your jaw nearly dropped.

Felix.

Wearing a tight black singlet, his muscles taut and gleaming under the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Grey sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips. You blinked. Your throat dried.

You looked away quickly, brushing it off. He’s gay, you told yourself.

You both slipped into bed, backs facing each other. A few soft chuckles about how weird it felt sharing a bed with your best friend.

Then silence.

Then sleep.

---

Sleep came fast.

Until it didn’t.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, half-lost in dreams, you felt it.

Warmth.

A firm chest pressing against your back. Strong arms wrapping around your waist. And then… a hand.

Not resting.

Gently groping.

Your breath caught.

Your mind screamed to wake up, to speak, but your body was frozen in place. The hand moved again, slow and deliberate, cupping your breast through the thin fabric of your pajama top. Not clumsy. Experienced. Your heart pounded.

You tried to convince yourself it was an accident. That maybe he was still asleep. That this wasn’t—

But then he whispered.

Right against your ear.

Voice deep. Steady.

“You smell so fucking good tonight.”

Your blood turned to ice.

You knew Felix’s voice. You’d heard it a thousand times. But this wasn’t the version you knew. This was lower. Raw. Starved.

You opened your mouth to speak, to ask what was going on—but before you could, he gently bit your shoulder and pulled you closer.

And then he said it—five words that changed everything.

“I’m not gay, baby girl.”

Your breath hitched.

Your entire body went cold as his hand slid lower, past the hem of your pajama shorts, fingers teasing the edge of your panties.