Summer Secret

by Raleigh Ruebins

  When I finally looked toward the bed, dim in the light coming through the window, I could just make out Owen’s figure. He was lying in bed, his head propped up on one hand, elbow resting on the bed.

  And for a moment I felt a jolt of hesitation, of anxiety.

  Was the magic of earlier today still going to be there? Was Owen still going to be into it, now that we weren’t in the damn ocean but on solid ground? Could it have been real?

  I paced over to the bed, caring less and less about the creaking floorboards. I pulled back the covers, sliding underneath slowly.

  And then Owen’s arms were tight around me, and he was pulling me hard into his embrace, right over into his warmth. Suddenly I was completely wrapped up in him, and he was my whole world again.

  He pressed his lips to mine, and this time it was even more urgent than it had been on the beach. He was kissing me like he needed me. Like he was hungry for me.

  And God, I was for him, too. I wrapped my arms around him, threading my fingers through his hair, wanting to be as close as humanly possible to this person I loved so much.

  It was overwhelming. It was consuming me, and I wanted nothing more. And when I felt like I might burst into tears or disintegrate into a million pieces just from his kiss, I had to pull back to breathe.

  “Owen,” I whispered, and he began to press his lips to my jaw, then down my neck.

  “Mmm?” he hummed against me, pushing the length of his body up against mine. I could feel all of him—his thighs on mine, his chest surrounding me, his cock, hard, pushing against my hip—

  “Oh, God, Owen,” I said, feeling myself shake a little. “Owen, I have to—I have to ask you something. Please.”

  He lifted his head, looking in my eyes, his gaze still dripping with want. But he was paying attention to me. He wanted to hear what I had to say.

  “I need to know,” I said. “How long have you… felt this? What is this? Where did this come from?”

  He let out a slow sigh. “I... I kind of don’t know,” he said. “I know that’s a bad answer.”

  “No, I understand, actually,” I said.

  “I haven’t really thought about things too much. I’m trying not to overthink them. But I do know that since I saw you again, everything has felt different.”

  “Jesus, I know,” I said, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

  “And in the ocean, I just… I felt like I couldn’t stop myself from kissing you,” he said, reaching out and gripping my hip. “It almost felt like I had to.”

  “I’m so glad you did,” I whispered.

  He bit his bottom lip softly, squeezing me again. “I had a dream,” Owen said, his gaze intense.

  “What?” I asked. Owen’s fingers trailed toward my back, lightly stroking me.

  He nodded. “I dreamed… I dreamed that you saved my life.”

  “Holy shit,” I said. “Well, that’s sweet.”

  He rolled his hips forward against me. “And then you pinned me to the ground,” he said, his voice deepening, “and you kissed me, over and over, and for fuck’s sake, Max, I loved it.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I uttered, reaching out toward his hips.

  “And I want that,” Owen said, rocking forward against me again. “I still want it, if it’s something you’d be interested in.”

  I swallowed hard, barely able to form words.

  “I don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable,” Owen said. “I just… I kind of lost it when you told me those things earlier today. I had no idea.”

  I pulled in a breath. “Trust me. I’m not uncomfortable. I’m just in complete shock.”

  He nodded. “It is crazy, isn’t it? I can’t explain it. But right now, I don’t even want to try to explain it. I just want to… to try.”

  “But what do you… want?”

  He paused for a moment, like he was trying to decide how much he wanted to tell me, or like he was trying to decide what he even felt. “How about… how about we go slow?” he asked.

  I nodded, losing myself a little in his eyes. “Okay. Slow. I like slow.”

  “Do you remember when I used to feel sick after parties some nights, and you’d come sit next to me as I lay in bed, and you’d just rub my back?”

  I nodded.

  He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my lips, soft and slow. It caught me off guard still, even though I’d felt it a few times today. It still felt so impossible to be kissing Owen—someone I thought would never want me even if he weren’t straight.

  He pulled back after a few moments. “Take off your shirt and turn over,” he said. I obliged, lying down on my stomach next to him, the sheets cool against my bare skin. And then his hands were on my back, just gently rubbing long strokes up and down, the lightest massage.

  I took long breaths in and out. I hadn’t realized just how overwhelmed I’d been, but as I lay and let Owen run his fingers along my back, it all hit me at once. My body was practically vibrating.

  “You know, it was the same for me,” I said, turning my head to the side so I could talk.

  “Hm?” Owen said from the pillow next to me.

  “What you said, about the… urges, sneaking up on you,” I said. “I’ve known I was gay for at least the last decade, but I only started feeling different about you this week. It hit me like a freight train.”

  He hummed. “A freight train. For me, it feels like… I don’t know, like the sun after a storm, maybe. For so long it seemed like it wasn’t there, but when the clouds pass, the sun just covers everything. Warms everything. That’s how I think it feels for me.”

  “I think that might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said,” I responded.

  “Right? See, I can be sweet sometimes.”

  I smiled, feeling the tension drain from my body.

  “Owen, your friendship is one of the most important things in the world to me,” I said, serious again. “I don’t want to do a single thing that could ever compromise that.”

  “I feel the same,” Owen said. His hand paused on my lower back, giving me a squeeze above my hip. “I don’t want us to do anything that isn’t… something we both really want.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “We both have to really want it.”

  I turned slowly toward him so that we were both lying on our sides facing one another. He kept his hand on me the whole time, seamlessly transitioning from stroking his fingers along my back to stroking them along my chest.

  “In wilderness, they made us meditate a lot,” Owen said, his voice low. “And the thing about meditating is that your mind is supposed to be blank, right? But really, the struggle is that your mind is never blank. For the first many minutes, it’s a huge swarm of insecurities and discomforts and desires that pops into your head.”

  He traced his fingers down my chest, to my stomach, and then back up again. I loved everything about this—I’d always loved when Owen sort of talked at me. I was a good listener, and it felt amazing to sit and hear someone I liked talking about things that were important to him. It had always been one of my favorite parts of our friendship, but it was taken to an entirely new level now that we’d shared kisses and his fingers were roaming all over my body.

  I relaxed into everything. Into his touch, his words, the sound of his voice as he spoke.

  “And no matter how many times I meditated,” he continued, “it always seemed the same to me. Until finally, my mind began to clear. I’d listen to the sound of a bird calling or a cricket nearby, and my mind would start to settle. Really settle. But sometimes, during those settled moments, you would float through my mind.”

  “Me?”

  He nodded. “Yep. It never felt like a distraction. It more felt like… a sense of peace. Definitely pain, too—I missed you, and I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to see you again. But the thought of you still brought me peace.”

  “It’s beautiful, Owen,” I said. “You… you know I missed you like hell every day, too?”

>   His eyes met mine. “You really did?”

  I let out a long breath. “God, of course,” I said. “I couldn’t admit it, because I thought I was doing the right thing cutting off contact with you. I thought… I don’t know, somehow I thought maybe I was bad for you, like I was the thing making it harder for you to beat your problems.”

  “Oh God, Max, that couldn’t be further from the truth—”

  “I know. I know that now,” I said, shaking my head. “Your journey is your own. I just… I’m so fucking glad you’re in my life again,” I said.

  He nodded slowly. “I couldn’t live without you, Max.”

  His hand was still roaming slowly across my body, and his fingers trailed toward my nipple, circling gently along it before moving down again toward my stomach. I was more relaxed now, and instead of feeling like my body was stuck in an electrical socket, I felt like I was in a warm hot tub. I still felt intoxicated by Owen’s touch and suddenly was acutely aware of it again as his fingers roamed around the waistband of my pants.

  I looked down. The outline of my hard-on was very obvious in my shorts.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, glancing down at it. “I… I can’t help it when you touch me.”

  Owen glanced down, then turned slightly toward the light, dragging his hand along his own shorts. I saw it, then: he was hard too, an outline just like my own. My cock throbbed at the sight of it.

  “No need to apologize, clearly,” Owen said, turning back toward me.

  “You’re not freaked out?”

  “I’m the opposite of freaked out,” he said, the gravelly, deep tone returning to his voice. His hand trailed up to my face, stroking my cheek, and he leaned in to press a slow kiss to my lips. Kissing him didn’t feel like any other kiss I’d ever had—I had never in a million years guessed that I would kiss Owen like this, that it would even be in the realm of possibility. So each time he’d kissed me, it had felt like a revelation, like a gift I never thought I’d get.

  And now, lying in his bed in the still of the night, his kiss was the only thing that made me feel grounded. I’d felt like I was on another planet since this afternoon, but when his lips were on mine, I knew I belonged right here.

  7

  Owen

  How had I ever lived without this?

  It was almost frightening to realize that for years, I’d had Max by my side, and… the potential for all of this was right there, in front of my face, and I’d never so much as considered it.

  It felt fucking incredible to kiss him. This person who had saved me so many times, both in life and in my dreams, the person who knew me better than anyone and still wasn’t turning away from me. He wanted me.

  I had been slightly worried that my dream might have been just an anomaly, that my brain had done something weird and put Max in there instead of a girl.

  But this was reality now. It really was Max in front of me, lying in bed with me, letting me kiss him. And it didn’t feel wrong at all. In fact, every time I touched him, I wanted more.

  As I kissed him, his body drew in toward me, coming closer, like a natural reflex instead of something we were in control of. My hands moved to the small of his back, reaching below the waistband of his shorts. Max’s body was incredible. I’d always known it in an objective way—I’d seen him shirtless plenty of times, and I knew the guy worked out. But feeling him near me was something else entirely.

  It seemed like he was losing more of his hesitation with every moment that passed. He gripped me harder, kissed me more urgently, moaned softly. It was a side of Max I’d never known before. I’d never thought about what my best friend might be like in bed. He was always so sweet and polite in everyday life, but why had I assumed that might translate to how he acted in bed? And as his hands roamed lower until he was running his palm along the length of my cock, I nearly gasped.

  Jesus Christ, it felt good. I knew if we were going to go down this road, I was going to need more—so much more. I was going to need release.

  “Mmm, Max,” I said softly, pulling back a little, even though I wanted more. “Is… is this okay? You don’t have to if you’re not ready—if you need to go slow—”

  He slowly ran his fingers along my cock, and I felt it twitch at the touch.

  “I know I said I want to go slow, but…” he said, gripping me through the fabric. “Fuck going slow, Owen.”

  I could see in his eyes that he meant it.

  I let out a strangled groan, like I’d finally been unleashed. I reached down, stroking my hand along his cock. His breath hitched, and I knew he hadn’t expected me to go right for it like that, but I couldn’t help myself any longer. I’d been wanting to touch him there for hours and hours.

  I hitched my fingers into the waistband of his shorts, letting my hand roam inside, and then… I was touching another guy’s cock, for the first time in my life. Max’s cock. Just like that.

  It was both familiar and yet so different. It was definitely thicker than my own, and when I felt the heft of it in my hand, it shot a thrill through me. I really fucking liked that it felt bigger than mine, and I couldn’t explain why.

  Max had stilled while I touched him, letting me gently stroke him. I had never seen him look this way before: simultaneously relaxed and like he was holding his breath with all his strength.

  I gave a quick tug at his shorts with my free hand. “Can I?” I asked, my voice low. “I want to… to see it.”

  Max paused and looked at me like he still couldn’t believe I was real. “You want to see it?”

  I could feel my face heating a little. Now I was getting bashful? “Ah—yeah, I mean, if you’re okay with that. It just… it feels really good in my hand, and I wanted—I want—”

  Max reached down, and in one swift motion, his shorts were off, and he pushed down the sheets to reveal his cock in the low lighting. He was now naked in bed next to me, eyeing me expectantly, so beautiful and vulnerable and strong.

  And as always, he looked fucking incredible. I was hit with a strong urge to just explore his body—take it in like I never had before. I pressed another kiss to his lips before kissing down lower, moving to the taut muscle of his chest where I could feel his heartbeat against my mouth. I took my time around the sides of his stomach, kissing slow and rubbing with my palm. He shuddered sometimes under my lips, and I didn’t know if it was from being ticklish in spots or because he was enjoying this as much as I was.

  Because I was losing my fucking mind. My cock was hard just from this, and every part of Max’s body I explored was better than the last.

  When I reached his cock, I slowed. There was no part of me that wanted any of this to end, and at first, I just ran my fingers along him, feeling the warmth and thickness. I stroked him gently. I watched as a bead of precum slowly gathered at his tip, and it was the best affirmation I could have ever gotten. I knew how good it felt when that happened to me. And here Max was, getting to feel that good, just because I was touching him.

  I smiled up at him. His brow was furrowed, watching me intently, but when I met his eyes, his face broke into a smile, too.

  “It feels really good,” he said softly. “Everything does—it’s so damn good.”

  “It is,” I agreed. And then finally, I leaned in to press a kiss to the tip of his cock. When I let my tongue drag along him, tasting the precum that had gathered there, he groaned, clearly trying to keep his voice low. I let my tongue swirl around him, tasting him.

  “I love how you taste,” I said. It was good, actually. I had no idea what I’d been expecting—I’d never considered what Max’s precum would taste like, for God’s sake. But I enjoyed the totally neutral, clean taste. And I certainly enjoyed the idea that I had been the one to make it happen—that my touches had caused him to feel that good.

  “You sure?” he whispered. “Owen, you can stop anytime, you know—I know you’ve never done this—if you don’t want to—”

  I met his eyes. “I really, really fucking want to,�
� I said, my voice even and firm. And then I finally bent down, taking Max’s cock into my mouth and sucking. It filled my mouth, thick and hot, and I realized at once that I had absolutely no clue what I was doing. Did I need to know special techniques to suck cock? Was I doing okay? For a moment I was nervous, realizing that Max must have had other guys with much more experience suck his cock so much better than I could.

  But then Max gripped his hand against the side of my head, letting out a shuddering moan that told me everything was just fine. It was loud enough that I worried other people might hear it in the hall, but I realized soon after that I didn’t care. I couldn’t possibly care. All I wanted was to make him feel more of that.

  I kept going. I didn’t know the best way to give a blow job, but I sure as hell knew what would feel good on me. So I did that. As I bobbed my head, swirling my tongue around his tip, I wanted to make him shudder, make him moan like he had before. I glanced up at him and saw that he was intently focused on me. It only spurred me on further.

  Even though I had never done anything like it before, after a while, it began to feel natural. I learned what made Max buck his hips, and then I did more of that. After a while, it didn’t feel strange to be blowing someone for the first time. It was beyond rewarding to feel him under me, holding back moans and gripping his hand against me.

  And all I wanted was to drive him crazy. Max had always been so uptight, so focused on work and duty and being perfect. But I knew right now he wasn’t thinking about anything else. Max needed this. He needed it as much as I did or maybe even more.

  I started to worry less and less about it being my first time and, instead, just focused on Max. I pulled off after a few minutes, looking up at him, keeping my hand at the base of his cock.

  His eyes were heavy-lidded and pleading as he looked down at me.

  “How am I doing?” I asked.

  “It’s really fucking good, Owen,” he whispered. “Like, really good. I’m… I’m close to losing it.”