Austen yanks me down on top of him, imprisoning my hand between our bodies as he attacks my mouth. A familiar tingle creeps up my spine, and I know I won’t last long. His dick pulses against my hand and my stomach as I continue pumping my hips, shoving my cock in and out of his ass, while he ravages my mouth like he’ll never get to kiss me again.
“Austen. Fuuuck!” I roar as my orgasm explodes, ripping through me like lightning, waves of pleasure rolling through me, consuming every part of my body. I deposit my seed, in the condom, deep in his ass, and he grits his teeth, hissing, his eyes rolling back in his head as he reaches his own peak. Sticky wetness coats my fingers and my stomach as his cum sprays between our sweat-slickened bodies.
I collapse on top of him, my dick still in his ass, his legs lowering to the bed on either side of my body. Austen snakes his arms around me, holding me close. “Told ya,” he whispers in my ear. “Knew you’d fucking rock my world.”
After we’ve cleaned up, we crawl under the covers, lying on our sides, with our legs touching. Austen links his fingers through mine. “You doing okay?”
The cheesiest smile spreads across my mouth. “I am better than okay. That was insanely hot.”
“Hotter than you imagined it’d be?” he inquires with a knowing smile.
“Way hotter.”
“You look happy,” he says as I trace circles on his chest with the tip of my finger.
“I am happy,” I honestly admit, and a sudden burst of emotion has tears pricking the back of my eyes.
“It’s a good look on you.”
“You’re a good look on me.” I hold the back of his neck. “This is serious for me, Austen. I don’t fuck around. I’m serious about you.”
Pressing his forehead to mine, he says, “I’m serious about you too. This isn’t some casual fling for me either.”
A shuddering breath escapes my body. “How did I get so lucky? I still can’t believe this.”
“Believe it, Keaton,” he says, pulling me flush against him. He rests his head on my shoulder. “This is the real deal.”
***
We fall into a new routine, and it’s as easy as breathing. Our days and evenings are full with our busy schedules, but we both ensure we’re home for dinner every night by eight. We take turns cooking, and I’m enjoying coming up with some new menu options. I mention it in passing to Mol, and she suggests a new monthly column in the newspaper with wholesome recipes athletes and other health-conscious students on campus can make. I tell her I’ll think about it.
At night, after we’ve done our homework, we watch TV while we catch up on our day, or we cave to our wild monkey lust, falling into bed and fucking until our limbs ache and we can barely keep our eyes open.
I still haven’t bottomed, and Austen hasn’t brought the subject up, staying true to his word and letting me set the pace. I know we need to talk about it, and I get seriously turned on every time I think of him sliding into my ass, but my fears always surface, reminding me I need to work up to it.
“That smells good,” Austen says, dumping his bag on the floor as he materializes in the kitchen. “Will it stretch to three?”
I glance over my shoulder, spotting Colton Barnes behind my boyfriend.
I know he knows about us, but in the three weeks since Austen confirmed his suspicions, I haven’t had any contact with him. A little forewarning would’ve been nice, but Austen probably knew I’d freak out if I had advance notice. He’s eager for me to meet his friends, so I can’t be mad at him for springing the Bear’s QB on me.
“I can make that work.” I smile at Colton. “Make yourself at home, man.”
Austen opens the refrigerator, sticking his head inside. “Water, juice, or soda?” he asks his friend. They have an important game tomorrow, against Stanford, their biggest rival, so there’s no question either of them will touch a drop of alcohol.
Austen’s dedication to football is a huge attraction. The guy gives two hundred percent to everything he commits to, and I’m in awe of him.
“I’ll take a water,” Colton confirms, dropping his bag on the floor beside Austen’s. “Nice place you’ve got here.”
“Thanks.” I stir the sauce before putting the lid back on it. I walk to the refrigerator to grab some garlic and unsalted butter to make garlic bread.
“Austen said you lived in the freshman dorms at first,” he adds, catching the bottle of water Austen throws at him.
“Yeah.” I smile at Austen when he hands me a glass of pinot noir. I take a sip of my wine as I pull lettuce, tomatoes, and peppers to make a salad from the refrigerator. “I wanted the full college experience,” I explain, washing the lettuce in the sink. “But it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.”
“He was hounded,” Austen explains as he sets another place at the table.
“That must suck, man.”
I shrug, drying the lettuce with some paper towels. “I’m used to it back home, but I’d stupidly thought coming here would be different. Not so much.”
“That’s the price of fame.” Colton sips his water, looking thoughtful. “I’ve never stopped to think about it before. And I know what we experience is only a fraction of what it’s like for you.”
I slice the tomatoes and peppers as we talk. “It’s pretty much all I’ve ever known, but part of the reason why I made the decision to come here was so I could escape the celebrity circus that follows my family. To just be me.”
“It must have been upsetting for you then,” Colton says, and Austen is right. His friend is easy to talk to.
“I thought about transferring to Harvard with my brothers constantly the first few months,” I admit, placing the salad in a bowl. I wipe my hands on the kitchen towel, turning around to face Colton as I sip on my wine. Austen has disappeared to his bedroom. To change, I’m guessing, but also to give me and Colton some time to bond.
“What stopped you?”
“I didn’t want to be that guy. The one who runs back home with his tail between his legs at the first sign of trouble. I stuck it out, already deciding I would find somewhere else to live the following year. Some place where there wouldn’t be people staring at me or knocking on my door at all hours of the day and night. Then I met my friends, settled into my classes, joined the college paper, and gradually found a way to be at peace.”
“I’m glad you stuck around.” Austen slides up beside me, nuzzling his face into my hair. “We wouldn’t have met if you’d left.”
Colton chuckles. “Had you pegged as the romantic type, Hayes. I should’ve put money on it.”
Austen flips him the bird. “Bite me.”
“I’ll leave that up to your lover. Seems like Keaton is fond of digging his teeth into your skin,” Colton quips, and my cheeks inflame like an out-of-control bushfire.
Austen told me he’s been the butt of some locker room teasing lately thanks to a few bite marks and hickeys I’ve left on his body. He lied and said his girlfriend surprised him with a visit, but it’s another reminder of how careful we need to be. And how much I hate he has to maintain the fake-girlfriend ruse.
Now, I’m the one sporting hickeys and bite marks in non-visible places, which is A-okay with me.
“Shit, sorry, man,” Colton says, working hard to hide his amusement, not looking that apologetic. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“It’s cool.” I remove the bread from the bread box. “I’m a novice at all this.”
“Austen explained.” Colton walks to my side. “And you never have to worry about me. I’d never tell anyone anything about you two.”
“Thanks, man. We appreciate that. And thanks for helping with Brock that time.”
He nods. “I’m here if you guys need me. Speaking of the douche, has he raised his ugly head lately?”
“He’s lying low. Licking his wounds, no doubt,” Austen says.
“Hopefully, he got the message,” Colton says.
“I think it’ll take more than a beatdown to mak
e that snake slither away,” I admit. “Although I’d love to take his lack of contact as a good sign, I’m worried he’s planning something.” I regularly scan the apartment using the app I downloaded to my cell after my phone call with Kev, and at least we are assured the prick hasn’t been inside our home.
“If he comes at us again, we’ll find a way of making him permanently go away,” Austen says, determination underscoring his words. I love how he says “we,” and it’s a huge weight off my mind to know I’m no longer in this alone.
“I bet he’s moved on to someone else. His type usually does.”
I pray Colton is right, but for now, I want to push all thoughts of Brock Jonas from my mind and just enjoy the night. “Dinner will be ready in fifteen.”
“Can I help?” Colton asks, and I hand him the bread knife.
“Slice that while I prepare the butter. Thanks.”
“Austen says you are an amazing cook. I might have to invite myself over more often.”
“Yeah, no.” Austen pulls himself up onto the counter behind us. “We have little free time to ourselves as it is, and I see enough of your ugly mug.”
“You love my pretty-boy face. Admit it.” Colton grins.
“You’re not my type, Barnes,” Austen retorts, and Colton chuckles.
“In more ways than one,” he adds, and I fight a grin as they banter back and forth while I finish the dinner prep.
“Man, this is so good I think I’ll turn gay and steal your boyfriend,” Colton says twenty minutes later when we’re seated at the table and diving into our steaks with Tuscan tomato sauce.
“I’d like to see you try,” Austen retorts. “Keats is mine.” He licks his lips as his gaze roams my body in a blatantly obvious manner.
My dick hardens at the dark lust on his face and the jealous possessive tone in his voice. If we didn’t have company, I’d drop to my knees under the table and show him just how much his possessiveness turns me on.
Colton chuckles. “Jealous much, Hayes?”
Austen flips him the bird before flashing me a drop-dead-gorgeous smile, and I’m a goner for this guy. Head-over-heels crazy for him.
“Austen is an amazing boyfriend,” I admit. “And there isn’t a man on the planet who could steal me away from him.”
Austen smirks at Colton, wearing the compliment with pride.
“Dude, don’t feed the beast,” Colton groans. “His ego is already out of control.”
“I think you mean your ego.” Austen shovels another forkful of steak in his mouth.
“Speaking of egos,” Colton says, his face almost orgasmic as he finishes off his dinner. “You should open a restaurant or start your own cooking show.”
My grin is out of control. “I appreciate the compliment, but cooking is only a hobby. I’ve seen those restaurant shows on TV, and no thanks. All that stress and pressure is not for me.” Although, the idea of a cooking show does hold some appeal, but it’s not like I’ve ever given much thought to cooking as a career.
“What do you plan to do after you graduate”? Colton asks, tearing off a huge chunk of his garlic bread.
“I have no clue. I’ll probably start up my own business or something,” I mumble, hating that I’m so directionless. Most everyone I’ve met at Berkeley has a set goal for after they graduate, and I’m still grappling to find a passion I can turn into a career.
“Keaton is a talented writer,” Austen says. “And he’s acing all his classes. He can do whatever he wants when he graduates. The world is his oyster.”
I wish I shared his confidence, but I don’t. Not wanting to be a Debbie Downer, I plaster a smile on my face and redirect. “Are you hoping to get signed by an NFL team?” I ask Colton.
“That’s the plan,” he says. “But if that doesn’t work out, I’m going to set up my own personal training business. Maybe start up my own gym franchise. Whatever I end up doing, it will be sports related.”
“I’ve no doubt whatever you do it’ll be a huge success.”
“While I hate to agree with anything your boyfriend says, Austen is right. The world is our oyster. We can be what we want, do what we want. These are the best years of our lives, and I don’t plan on wasting a single second of it.”
His words strike a deep chord inside me.
How many more years am I going to waste denying who I am?
It’s as if a light bulb goes off in my head, and I see what’s been staring me in the face these past few years.
It’s no wonder I can’t find a passion or a goal when I’m still hiding behind a wall.
Until I fully embrace my identity and my sexuality, I will never know who I truly am, who I could be, because I’m suppressing that part of myself where the inner passion dwells.
If I want to find a path to my future, it begins with acknowledging who I am in the present.
It’s time to tell my family what I should’ve had the balls to tell them years ago.
I’m ready to tell my family I’m gay.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Austen
Keaton is waiting with Mol, Kate, and Seb when Colton and I emerge from the locker room after the postgame lecture Coach just laid on us. Knowing my boyfriend was in the crowd, watching us get our asses beat, only adds to my low mood.
“Commiserations, guys,” Mol says as we approach the group. “Can I get an official quote for the paper?”
“Mol.” Keaton takes her elbow, switching off the recorder on her cell. “We’re off duty tonight. Leave the guys alone.”
I like Molly. She’s sweet and quiet, except when she’s looking for a quote or she sniffs a story, and then she transforms from a cute Chihuahua into a ferocious Rottweiler, gnashing teeth at the ready. She’s going to make one damn fine reporter someday.
Mol nods tersely, not wanting to let it go, but she values Keaton’s friendship too much to persist. I take pity on her. “I’ll email you a quote you can use tomorrow. Right now, I just want to drown my sorrow in beer.”
Today’s game was a big game for us. The Big Game. Against the Cardinals. It's the oldest rivalry in this part of the country, and Stanford has won nine of our last ten meetings. We badly wanted to change that today, and though we came close, we were still the losing team at the end of the second half. I’m fucking sick over handing those smug bastards a victory, especially since they’ve just cost us our winning streak, and I want to drink my body weight in beer and then crawl into bed with my boyfriend later and get lost in him.
We head to a Thai place for dinner before joining the rest of the team at the sports bar we sometimes frequent. Keaton and I purposely sit on opposite sides of the booth, which I hate, but at least I get to play footsie with him under the table.
Nolan is holding court at the table, and his grating voice drills painful holes in my skull. Keaton chews on his lip as I order another beer, and I know he’s concerned I’m drinking too much, but it’s not like I’m falling-down drunk every day of the week. And I need to smother all the thoughts screaming in my head.
Losing the game today was a blow, but increasingly, I’m getting frustrated at having to hide my relationship. Like now, I want to wrap my arms around my sexy boyfriend and kiss the shit out of him. I stare at his mouth, remembering his full lips wrapped around my dick last night as he sucked me off while fingering my ass.
Fuck. Sex with Keaton Kennedy is on a whole new orgasmic level, and I literally cannot get enough.
The waitress hands me a beer along with her number written on a napkin. I thank her without looking up at her, never taking my eyes off Keaton, scrunching the napkin, and tossing it on the floor.
Conversation continues around me, but I tune the voices out, drinking my beer as I eye fuck my boyfriend, my dick straining against my jeans, throbbing with need.
Keaton cautions me with his eyes, turning into Seb, whispering in his ear, and a little green-eyed monster makes an appearance, which is ridiculous, because Seb and Kate are clearly into one another, but oc
casionally, I’ve wondered if Seb is harboring a secret crush on my man, because I’ve spotted him staring at him a few times in a way that made me question if he isn’t into dudes too.
That shit is catching. Am I right?
I bark out a laugh, draining the rest of my beer as my eyes linger on Keats again. An unexpected burst of pain shoots up my leg as someone levels a swift kick to my shin under the table. Colton glares at me, and I flip him off.
My cell pings with a message from my buddy.
Colton: You’re being obvious.
I lift my head from my cell, and Colton jerks his head in the direction of the bathrooms as he sends me another text.
Colton: Go sort your shit out or GO HOME.
Fuck. He’s right. I’d hate myself if I did or said anything which outed us. I’ll take a piss and then go home before I do any damage.
The room tilts as I stand, and I sway a little on my feet. Ignoring the whoops and hollers at my back, I make my way out of the bar area and into the hallway where the bathrooms are. I have my hand on the door to the men’s bathroom when Keaton calls out to me. My eyes whip left and right, but the hallway is empty, so I snag Keaton’s arm, pulling him into the accessible bathroom with me and locking the door.
Pushing him up against the door, I drill my hard-on against his crotch as my lips crash against his. Keats grabs the back of my head, kissing me with the same passion, and I get lost in the feel of his hot body flush against mine and the possessive way his lips claim mine.
Reaching between us, I fumble with the buttons of his jeans, popping the top two open and driving my hand down under the band of his boxers, palming his hard dick.
“Shit, Austen.” Keats rips his mouth from mine, holding one hand to my chest. “We can’t do this here, man. And not when you’re drunk.”
“I’m not so drunk that I’m not in control,” I truthfully admit. “And I need you, man. I need you, Keats.” I grab fistfuls of his hair, peppering kisses along his face and his jawline.
He cusses, and I see the indecision on his face, but right now, my need is too strong. I stroke his cock while I attempt to open my jeans with my left hand.
Adoring Keaton: A Stand-Alone Friends-to-Lovers MM Romance (The Kennedy Boys Book 9) Page 13