by Roni Loren
Hunter gave him an easy smile. “Good night, butterballs.”
Devon smacked his lips. “Smooches, lover.”
Hunter rolled away and clicked off his bedside lamp. “And don’t steal my covers.”
“Never.” Devon wrapped the blanket around him and turned his back to Hunter, willing his body not to react to the guy’s scent, the fact that he was half naked next to him, or the knowledge that Hunt preferred rough sex.
He would not think of those things.
Would not.
His cock went hard.
Fuck.
This was going to be a long night.
Chapter 5
College
Devon woke up in the early-morning hours with an arm around his waist and Hunter’s morning wood pressed against his ass. Jesus. Devon went hard instantly, despite the fact that he couldn’t take Hunter’s erection personally. The guy was asleep. It was the morning. Wood happened.
He should move. He should adjust, roll over, something. He coughed.
Hunter shifted behind him and his breathing changed—awake breathing.
Damn, he hadn’t meant to wake him up, just wanted him to move. Devon tensed, bracing for the freak-out, but after a few seconds, Hunter simply rolled onto his back. “Sorry. You up?”
The question surprised him. He figured Hunter was going to play it off like he was still sleeping, so Devon went with his safety net—humor. “Not as up as your dick.”
He grunted. “Yeah, my bad. I’m used to hugging a pillow at night, and I think I was dreaming. Didn’t mean to . . . you know. “
“No big deal,” Devon said, keeping his back to Hunter. “It’s freezing in here. We’re going to be drawn to each other’s warmth in our sleep.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Hunter said, his voice sounding distant in the dark even though he was right beside him. He got quiet. The sheets rustled.
Devon closed his eyes, willing himself to go back to sleep, to forget how Hunter felt against him.
The bed jostled again, Hunter clearly restless next to him. Maybe he wanted Dev to leave.
“You okay?” Devon asked.
“I’ll be fine.” The words were gruff in a way Dev was familiar with.
“Just woke up horny as fuck?” he guessed.
The rumbling sound that came from Hunter was somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “Just a stupid dream. I’ll be fine.”
“Good dream or bad one?”
“My dick doesn’t get hard over a nightmare, genius. Now shut up and go to sleep.”
Devon tried, but Hunter kept shifting over on his side. The guy was obviously struggling. “Uh, you need me to go back to my bed so you can rub one out?”
A choked sound came from Hunter’s side. “What?”
“Come on, Hunt. It’s not like I’ve never heard you do it. You’re not that stealth. We live in close quarters. The bathrooms are always crowded. We both do what we need to do.”
He sniffed. “Don’t act like I’m the only noisy one. Like I can’t hear those grunting sounds you make into your pillow. You’re no jerk-off ninja either.”
Devon stilled. “You’ve listened to me get off?”
“Hard to not hear. You kind of get into it, man.” Hunter tugged on the covers. “But no, you don’t need to sleep in a wet bed just because I’ve got blue balls.”
“All right. We can just lie here and have blue balls together. Call it brotherhood bonding.”
“Wait, you, too?”
“Well, someone rubbed his dick on my ass while I was sleeping. My brain only has one way to process that. But you’re right. Wet bed was a bad idea. I’d rather die of blue balls than get out from under this blanket right now.”
Hunter got quiet again, and Devon figured that was the end of the conversation, but then the mattress squeaked and a drawer opened. After another second and more jostling from the other side of the bed, something landed in front of Devon. A small bottle of lotion and a sock.
“What the hell?” he asked, pushing up on his elbow.
“Fuck it,” Hunter said. “What’s the difference whether we’re on opposite sides of the room or not. Do what you need to do. I’ll do what I need to do. Just don’t get it on my sheets.”
Devon stared at the bottle, the words reverberating in his head. They were going to jerk off next to each other? Sweet mother in heaven. This was such a bad, bad, really hot idea. He grabbed the bottle. “Must’ve been some dream. You’re too horny to think straight. Playboy model or something?”
“No.”
The bed bounced as Hunter adjusted himself, and it nearly killed Devon not to turn and look. Was Hunter sliding his sweats down or would he just tuck his hand in his pants and pull his dick out? What pictures were running through the guy’s mind?
“What was the dream about, then?” Devon asked, pushing his luck as he gave his own cock a squeeze through his shorts.
He didn’t think Hunter would answer. If anything, the questions would probably knock some sense into Hunter and put this whole thing to a stop. But after a moment, he heard the flip of a cap on a bottle and the squirt of lotion or lube, and Hunter answered. “I didn’t see anyone’s face. I was . . . tied down and things were being done to me. Like I’d been abducted by an alien or something and I just had to take whatever. Stupid, I know.”
“Nah, sounds hot.” Devon took the risk and rolled onto his back. The covers were still over them both, but his arm brushed against the springy dark hair that covered Hunter’s forearm. He could feel the tension in Hunter’s limb, knew that was the hand he was using to jerk himself.
Devon swallowed back the groan and the rush of desire. He pushed his shorts down and greased up his cock. If Hunter was going to have a temporary moment of insanity, Devon wasn’t stupid enough not to enjoy it for all it was worth. He hadn’t hooked up with anyone in forever, and the guy who played a starring role in most of his fantasies was stroking himself next to him. Yes, Hunter was straight. Yes, this was probably ten kinds of fucked up. He didn’t care. He wanted to smell the scent of Hunter in the air. He wanted to join in that fantasy with him—Hunter strapped down and being violated in devious ways. In his head, Devon easily drifted into the role of captor, the one who would tease Hunter to the edge.
Hunter cursed softly under his breath, the sound rife with pent-up pleasure, and Devon gave his cock a rough stroke. He lifted his eyelids, his vision now adjusted somewhat to the dark. In his peripheral vision, he could see Hunter’s spread-out form, the blankets undulating where his hand moved beneath the covers. Devon almost came from the sight alone.
Hunter groaned. “Are you watching me, Crowe?”
“I’m not a saint, bro. If some girl was getting herself off next to you, you wouldn’t be tempted to look? Even if she was just a friend?”
His strokes slowed. “I’m sure I’d be tempted to do more than that.”
Hearing the concern in Hunter’s voice, Devon turned his head on the pillow to look at him. “I’m not going to make a move on you, Hunt. We’re good.”
“But watching me is getting you off?”
“Having my fist around my cock is getting me off. I’m a pro at this. You’re just bonus scenery. But I won’t look again if that makes you feel better.”
Something eased in Hunter’s expression. He turned his gaze back toward the ceiling, a smile touching his lips. “I bet you’re better at this than I am. Gay dudes probably have special tricks. Those noises you make sound pretty fucking satisfied.”
Devon forced his attention to the ceiling as well, but he could still track Hunter’s movement in the corner of his eye. “Well, there are some tricks. Sometimes I slide a finger in my ass while I do it—or use a plug. That’s better, don’t have to worry about multitasking.”
Hunter choked out a laugh. “Sounds painful.”
Devon let his head relax fully on the pillow, his hand working with a steady, firm motion now. The bizarre conversation was only turning him on more. “That means you
haven’t tried it. Don’t have to be gay to appreciate it. Lots of good-feeling things back there. If you’re ever feeling daring, just rub a finger over the opening with your other hand while you stroke your cock. Or have a girl do that the next time she blows you.”
Devon followed his own advice, bending his knee and running his blunt fingernail over his rim, sending his muscles clenching low. What would it feel like to have Hunter rubbing him there, Hunter inside him? He couldn’t stop his own groan from escaping.
“Fuck, you’re doing it, aren’t you?” Hunter said, his words strained.
Devon smiled into the darkness. “Am I turning you on, big man?”
“No, but you’re making me fucking want to try it.”
“I’m a bad influence like that. Go for it. I promise I won’t tell anyone. And if you hate how it feels, all you have to do is stop.”
Hunter didn’t respond, but the springs beneath them protested as Hunter adjusted his position. Fuck. Hunter was about to do it, tease himself with a finger for the first time. Devon squeezed the base of his cock, staving off the intense rush of desire that image caused. Hunter let out a frustrated grunt.
“Bend your knee and make sure your finger has some lotion on it,” Devon said, trying to keep his voice steady, neutral, even though his heart was about to pound out of his chest. “You don’t have to push in. The outside will be sensitive.”
“Is this How to Jerk Off Like a Boss 101?” Hunter joked, but then his whole body shuddered. “Oh, shit.”
Devon smiled. “And we’ve located our target.”
“Jesus, man. That’s . . . different.”
“Yeah, I know. But different good, right?”
Hunter grunted an affirmative response.
“That spot behind the balls kind of rocks, too.” Devon dragged his fingers over his perineum, taking his time now, enjoying this lesson with Hunter way too much. “Have a girl run her nails over it, or if she’s really daring, she can lick it. You’ll thank me.”
“Damn,” Hunter groaned. “Your dates must be way kinkier than mine. No girl I know would put her mouth near there.”
“Her loss.”
“Fuck, I’m close.”
“Me, too.”
“This should be weird, right? That we’re doing this,” he said, his breaths going choppy now.
“Maybe for you. I’m gay and the school’s hottest baseball player is jerking off next to me while he plays with his asshole. This is hot. I should be taking pictures to preserve the memory.”
Hunter made some strange half-laugh/half-choke sound. “Fuck you.”
“You wouldn’t know how.”
“Ain’t that the damn truth.”
The sound of slick fists moving over flesh filled the room, and Devon got lost in the moment—their mingled grunts and groans, the scent of their heated skin, and the telltale motion of the bed as they both hurtled toward release. Hunter reached his finish line first, and the deep, guttural sound he made did Devon in. He could imagine his friend making that sound as Dev buried his cock deep in his ass, showing him all the things he’d never felt before, teaching him how good it could be, how rough he could make it.
Orgasm rushed down his spine and jetted outward, sensation rocketing through him. Devon swallowed back his shout, afraid to alert anyone left in the house, and hot fluid spilled over his fist, the sock long lost in folds of the covers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
The release went on for longer than normal, and he had to fight not to pump his hips and bounce the whole bed. But when he was done, he was flying on the high of it. He sank into the mattress and sighed. For a long stretch of seconds, it was just their harsh breathing in the cold air, their hearts beating wildly, bodies lying still and spent.
“You totally got it on my fancy sheets, didn’t you?” Hunter said finally. His voice was lazy and sated—a just-fucked voice that Devon wanted to roll around in.
“It’s mostly just on me,” he replied, still holding the blanket away from the sticky mess on his hand and stomach.
The bedcovers rustled, and then Hunter thrust something against his side. “Here. Use this.”
Devon grabbed the ball of material—Hunter’s T-shirt. He resisted the urge to hold it to his face and inhale and cleaned himself up instead. He tossed the thing to the floor and dragged his shorts up. “You all right?”
“I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“Yep.”
Devon frowned and rolled to his side, propping himself up on his elbow. Hunter was evaluating the ceiling, a pensive look on his face. “It’s okay if you’re freaking out a little, you know?”
Hunter didn’t look his way.
Damn. The last thing he wanted was awkwardness. “It’s not a big deal. Things always look different after you come. You look back and realize that fantasy you were getting off on is actually pretty twisted and embarrassing. Or that person that looked so good a few minutes ago isn’t quite so hot. But what just happened was nothing. No need to stress about it. We were horny. We jerked off. We just happened to be near each other when it happened.”
Hunter smirked. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t be having deep, philosophical thoughts about my sexuality?”
Devon snorted. “What? Now you think you’re bi?”
“I don’t know. What if I am? I just jerked off with a guy and don’t feel weird about it.”
Devon sighed. Well, wouldn’t that be wonderful. It also was highly unlikely. “Do you see other guys and think about fucking them?”
“No.”
“Do you get hard seeing your teammates hit the showers?”
He scowled. “Hell, no.”
Devon sighed and laid his head back down. “Sadly, I think you’re woefully straight, big man.”
“Would you make a move on me if I wasn’t?” he asked, no jest in his voice.
“No.”
“Not your type?”
Devon closed his eyes. “Nope.”
You’re exactly the wrong type.
I don’t fuck people I love.
Chapter 6
College
Hunter’s phone vibrated next to his head, startling him awake and making him roll right into Devon who mumbled a “What the fuck?” and flipped over.
Hunter blinked his eyes open, the sunlight streaming in from the windows like an ice pick to his sleep-deprived brain, and pawed around for the phone. When he wrapped his fingers around it, he put it to his ear. “What?”
“Hey, dude,” said a half-whispered voice. “It’s Ahmed. You’ve got a visitor.”
“Huh?”
“Your father was at the door when I got back a little while ago. He said he’d tried to call you and had been waiting a while. I tried to stall him by making him some coffee and telling him you were up late studying, but he’s about to head your way. If you’ve got a girl up there, hide her in the closet.”
“Shit.” Hunter’s heart jumped into his throat. His dad was here? He glanced at Devon’s sleeping form next to him. He didn’t have a girl in his bed. He had much worse. At least in his father’s eyes. “On it, thanks.”
“No problem.”
Hunter tossed his phone and shoved Devon’s shoulder. “Wake up.”
“Hmm?”
“Get the fuck up. My father’s here. Like here. Now.”
Devon rolled over, eyes wide. “What?”
Hunter hopped out of bed, frantically searching for his T-shirt, but when he picked up the one he’d worn last night it was in a ball and sticky with the remnants of last night’s lapse in sanity. Devon’s come was all over his shirt. God. This was bad. “Shit. Shit.”
Devon hurried to his feet, holding up his hands. “Calm down. We’ve got this.”
He opened a drawer and tossed a sweatshirt Hunter’s way and then yanked the blanket off the bed and threw it onto his wet mattress, making it look like both beds had been slept in.
“Put yourself together,” Devon said. “It’s going to be fine.”
Hunter tugged on the sweatshirt, but as he stared at his sleep-mussed roommate, purple and brown hair sticking up every which way, he couldn’t see how this was going to be fine. His father couldn’t know that Devon was his roommate. If he got even a hint about Devon’s sexuality, he’d yank Hunter out of the frat house in one hot second.
Devon disappeared into the closet¸ and heavy footsteps thumped on the stairs outside. Hunter quickly gathered the baby-powdered clothes from the floor and shoved them in his laundry basket. Then he grabbed his backpack and dumped textbooks onto his desk, but one book slid sideways and knocked the bottle of lotion on the bedside table onto the floor. “Dammit.”
He swept it up and ditched it into the drawer. The knock hit the door only a few seconds later. Hunter peered nervously toward the closet where Devon was. Was he going to hide in there? Maybe that was the best move.
“Be right there.”
He adjusted his sweats higher on his hips and did one last visual sweep of the room. It was a disaster. Baby powder, a wet bed, stuff everywhere. But no telltale signs of what had happened last night. It would have to do.
He swung open the door, finding his father looming in the hall and frowning. His gaze coasted over Hunter’s disheveled state, and his lip curled in disgust. “It’s past ten in the morning and you look like a homeless person.” He leaned forward and sniffed. “Are you drunk?”
“No, Dad.” He rubbed a hand over his head to smooth his mussed hair. “I pulled an all-nighter studying. What are you doing here?”
“Studying what?”
Anatomy. My roommate. My life and everything I know about it. “Calculus.”
He grunted. “I tried calling you three times. And I’ve been banging on the door.”
“You know I’m a hard sleeper. And if you had told me you were coming . . .”
“I’m here on an unexpected business trip. I thought I’d take my son whom I haven’t seen in months out to lunch. And I pay for this school and this room that you’re in and those clothes on your back, so don’t act like I need to send a formal invitation to your secretary to see you.”