Chapter 161: Keiza And Darren* [FIXED!]
Darren pushed through the door of his apartment, tossing his keys onto the counter with a heavy sigh of relief. The gym bag slid off his shoulder and landed somewhere near the couch, forgotten the second his phone was in his hand.
He didn’t even have to think about it. His thumb was already scrolling to her name.
[Darren: you home?]
[Keiza: where else would I be lol. you good?]
[Darren: yeah. that party thing got cancelled, come over?]
The reply came almost instantly.
[Keiza: omw. don’t eat anything, I’m bringing food]
Darren grinned at the message, tossing the phone onto the couch cushion before heading to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. He caught his reflection in the mirror — one eye slightly swollen, a cut along his cheekbone still an angry red. He touched it lightly, wincing, then shrugged. Battle scars.
Twenty minutes later there was a knock, and by the time he opened the door, Keiza was already halfway through it, balancing two containers in her arms. Darren was surprised by her urgency when it came to him, not that he was complaining.
"Move," she said, brushing past him without waiting for a response.
"No ’hi, Darren, I missed you’?" he called after her, shutting the door.
"I said hi through the door practically," she shot back from the kitchen, already pulling plates down from the cabinet like she lived there. Which, at this point, she basically did.
Darren wandered in behind her, leaning against the counter, watching her move. She had this way of taking over a space without asking permission — cabinets, drawers, the little rituals of setting a table — and he never once minded it.
"Smells good," he said.
"It’s jollof, don’t act surprised." She shot him a look over her shoulder. "You say that every single time like I haven’t been cooking for you for two years."
"I mean it every single time too."
She rolled her eyes, but he caught the smile she tried to hide.
The second the plate hit the table in front of him, Darren was done pretending to have manners. He dug in like he hadn’t eaten in a week, shoveling forkfuls in with a speed that made Keiza laugh out loud, covering her mouth with her hand.
"Slow down, nobody’s taking it from you, geez!"
"Can’t help it," he said around a mouthful. "You cook like this and expect me to be civilized?"
"I expect you to chew, at minimum."
He gave her a thumbs up, cheeks still full, and she just shook her head, propping her chin on her hand as she watched him. There was something about the way he ate — reckless, unfiltered, completely himself — that she found stupidly endearing. Like nothing in the world could touch him in that moment.
Between bites, he started telling her about his week — not all of it, just the parts that mattered. Sparring with a legit fighter. The invite to go watch his next match. Liam showing up more, actually making time for him despite how busy his life had gotten.
"Liam’s really been around a lot lately, huh," Keiza said, tilting her head.
"Yeah." Darren nodded, swallowing. "Dude’s changed. Like — I don’t know how to explain it. He used to be this stiff lawyer type, all buttoned up. Now he’s just... he shows up. For real."
"That’s good, though." She smiled, genuinely. "I like that you have him."
Darren caught something in her tone. "What’s that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing bad," she said quickly, reaching over to steal a piece of plantain off his plate before he could stop her. "I just mean — I know how you get when you don’t have an outlet. When you’re just... stuck in your head. Liam gives you somewhere to put all that energy that isn’t self-destructive."
Darren didn’t say anything right away, just looked at her.
"What?" she asked, noticing.
"Nothing. You’re staring at me weird."
"I’m not staring weird, I’m staring normal." She narrowed her eyes at his face, at the fresh bruising along his cheek. "You look like you got hit by a truck, by the way."
"Feels like it too."
She reached up without thinking, fingers hovering near the cut like she might touch it, then pulled back. She never bandaged him up anymore — hadn’t in years. Somewhere along the line she’d decided the marks belonged to him, proof of something he needed to work through, not something to be hidden or fixed. And if she was being honest, she didn’t mind the rough look on him one bit.
"You’re not gonna tell me to put ice on it?" Darren asked, smirking.
"You never listen when I do." She shrugged. "Might as well save my breath."
He laughed at that, low and easy, and reached across the table for her hand. She let him take it.
"Liam and you have gotten closer these past couple of weeks," she said after a moment, turning his hand over in hers, tracing the calluses along his knuckles.
"Yeah, guess we have."
"Why didn’t you two hang out more before? Like, back when things were rough for you."
Darren shrugged. "Man was always drowning in work. Billable hours, depositions, whatever lawyer stuff. Didn’t really have time to breathe, let alone hang out."
He left out the rest — the money, the push to actually chase something real instead of scraping by. That wasn’t information Keiza needed. Not because he didn’t trust her, but because some things a man just kept to himself.
"Well," she said, squeezing his hand, "I’m glad he’s making time now."
"Yeah," Darren said quietly, looking at her. "Me too."
The meal had been a quiet affair, filled with the kind of heavy, supportive silence that only exists between two people who have bled for one another. As they cleared the table, the air between Darren and Keiza shifted, the emotional intimacy of their conversation curdling into something far more primal. The way Darren looked at her—his gaze lingering on her lips—made Keiza’s stomach flip. She didn’t want words anymore; she wanted the weight of him.
Without a word, Keiza sank to her knees on the hardwood floor, her eyes locked onto his. Darren let out a low, ragged exhale, his hand reaching down to undo his trousers. When he freed himself, his thick black cock sprang forward, already semi-erect and pulsing with anticipation. It was a massive piece of meat, dark and imposing, the head already weeping a bead of clear pre-cum.
Keiza didn’t hesitate. She leaned in, her tongue darting out to lick the tip, tasting the salt of him. Darren groaned, his fingers digging into her hair as she opened her mouth wide and slid her lips over the crown. The sheer girth of him stretched her jaw, filling her mouth completely. She sucked hard, her cheeks hollowing as she created a vacuum, swirling her tongue around the sensitive ridge of his glans.
Darren’s hips gave a sudden, involuntary jerk. He nearly came right away, the intensity of her suction sending electric shocks straight to his brain. "Fuck, Keiza," he rasped, his voice dropping an octave. "You’re trying to kill me before I even get started."
He looked down at her, a smirk playing on his lips despite the agony of pleasure. He leaned back against the table, watching her work.
"You’re just making sure I’m fed, aren’t you?" he joked, his voice strained. "Feeding me all this attention so I stay at full strength... just so you can feed yourself off this cock later."
Keiza responded by sliding deeper, taking the thick shaft further down her throat. She loved the feeling of him hitting the back of her throat, the slight gag reflex only adding to the thrill. She was a natural at this, a dedicated swallower who craved the fullness of him. She bobbed her head rhythmically, her throat tightening around his pulsing length, her eyes watering as she took him as deep as she possibly could.
The friction was unbearable. Darren’s breath became a series of sharp, jagged hitches. He could feel the pressure building in his balls, the heat radiating from his core. He gripped her hair tighter, guiding her movements, pushing himself deeper into her warm, wet throat. The pulsing of his cock became violent, the veins standing out like cords against his dark skin.
"I’m close... fuck, I’m right there," he groaned, his body stiffening.
Just as he reached the peak, Darren pulled back abruptly, wanting to see her. He yanked his cock out of her mouth just as the first wave of orgasm hit. He gripped himself, pumping rapidly, and let out a guttural roar as he erupted. Thick, hot ropes of white cum blasted across Keiza’s face, splattering over her cheeks, her chin, and landing squarely across her open eyes and forehead. He continued to nut, pumping load after load of sticky seed onto her skin until he was spent, leaving Keiza drenched and breathless, staring up at him through a veil of his cream.