I lean back against the wall, tapping against my knee with my phone as I debate on how to spend my Friday night.
In my dorm suite.
Which I have all to myself.
For the whole-ass weekend.
Alone.
Fuck, I sound like a pussy right now. And feel like a goddamn puppy sitting by the door, waiting for my owner to come home after being gone all day at work.
Pathetic, if you ask me. And that’s coming from someone who likes dogs.
It’s not that I haven’t lived through Keene being gone during baseball season. This is completely standard in comparison to last season. It’s just strange to not have heard from him by this late in the night. I know the game is over; I watched the damn thing on the local channel that broadcasts all Foltyn athletics.
Normally, if it’s close enough, I just go watch instead. Support my best friend the way he’s always supported me in whatever I decided to set my mind to. And if I can’t go watch, like tonight, he’ll call me and bitch about his mistakes after the game instead of focusing on what he did well.
It happens like clockwork, a constant cycle with Keene the second his back hits the mattress of his hotel room. Ready to lay out all the ways he saw himself as inadequate during the game.
He’s always been like that, the perfectionist he is when it comes to the game. It usually takes me reminding him of the things he did well before he calms down enough to realize that hey, maybe I’m not a trash baseball player like I think I am when I’m not on my game every single day.
I learned so much about baseball to do this for him over the years, even when the sport held little to no interest to me. But I did it anyway, because he’s my best damn friend.
It was worth it in the end, just to get him to stop stressing out about his abilities on the field. Hell, I didn’t even dare make jokes about performance anxiety to him, knowing it would only earn a death glare and an ass chewing. While we were in high school especially. Shit got pretty rocky when scouts were coming around and recruiting for colleges our junior and senior years.
But…it wouldn’t be Keene if he wasn’t too hard on himself.
Tonight is different though. They flew to Arizona this morning for the four-game series over the weekend, and I haven’t heard anything from him yet. Fucking radio silence. Which wouldn’t freak me out under normal circumstances.
But with the shit we’ve been doing together lately, it’s got me feeling a little on edge. Itchy. Like at any second, our friendship is going to completely implode because we’ve touched each other’s dicks and know what the other sounds like when we come.
Not things best friends typically do with each other.
I gnaw on my bottom lip, spinning my phone atop my knee and debating calling him to check in. There’s no harm in that, right? We do this all the time. Regularly. The only thing that’s different is I’d be the one calling him instead of the other way around.
God, I need a cigarette to chill out.
Checking the time, I see he most definitely should have been back to the room by now. It’s been almost two hours since the end of the game and lights out are usually by eleven for the team while they’re on the road.
Why hasn’t he said anything?
They lost tonight, though from my end it seems like he played really well. Again, not a baseball expert, but I know enough by now to know when he plays like trash. And again, not one of those times. Yet I know he’s going to be in his own head unless he talks it out.
Jesus Christ, stop overthinking this. It’s Keene, for fuck’s sake.
Scrolling to his contact, I tamp down the sudden bout of anxiety that hits me and tap the FaceTime icon.
It rings three times, each passing one causing an increase of adrenaline to pump through my veins at an unprecedented rate. It’s stupid to be nervous about calling Keene, but I am. So much that I’m about to end the call when he picks up, but then I’m greeted with an extremely unexpected sight.
Keene.
In the shower.
He actually answered the damn phone completely naked and propped it up in the shower while cleaning himself.
Now…at this point, I’ve seen his cock. I’m well acquainted with that particular part of his body by now. And if that isn’t a damn kicker in itself, I’m surprised to find myself disappointed when I notice it’s out of view, the camera cutting off just below his belly button.
I’m quick to cut that line of thinking before I can do something stupid like ask him to show me his dick, instead choosing another opening.
“Why’re you answering the phone on FaceTime when you’re in the shower?” I ask, trying to keep my eyes on his face while the water pours down over his head and chest. It doesn’t work, though. The stream sends trails of water cascading over his pecs and rippling down his abs enticingly before running out of view, and my eyes greedily follow.
My own cock twitches at the thought of tracing their path with my tongue.
What the fuck is happening to me?
“Why’re you FaceTiming me while I’m in the shower?” he replies, smirking slightly as he runs his fingers through his hair before his hand reaches out and grabs a bottle of shampoo.
“I didn’t know you were in the shower, Kee. Don’t you shower at the field anyway? Why are you taking another?”
“I always take a second one after getting back. Ritual thing.”
Damn superstitious baseball players and their rituals.
He glances up at the camera, a shit-eating grin crossing his face as he pours some in his palm. “You miss me already, yeah?”
I roll my eyes, already much more at ease. “Sure, shithead. We can go with that. Not like I haven’t been waiting for you to call and bitch until my ears fall off about how shitty you played tonight.”
His grin widens as he lathers the shampoo in his hair. “I played great. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
My brows rise as I settle into my pillows and prop my phone on my knee. “Who are you and what have you done with Keene Waters?”
A soft chuckle floats through the phone as he tips his head back, closing his eyes and letting the water rinse his hair. My mouth goes dry watching the suds slide down his toned torso, coating his tanned skin with bubbles. Even through the tiny phone screen, I feel like I’m there with him. Seeing it in real time.
I glance away, clearing my throat, and try to keep my mind off his sinful-as-hell body.
“I actually feel great about how the game went. Which is weird, knowing me. Especially with it being a loss.”
Swallowing roughly, I let out a wry laugh. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re high.”
“High on life, man. Kaleb grabbed some beers and we hung out in his room for a while. Bullshitted and whatnot. Which is why I hadn’t called yet. I just got in.”
My skin prickles at the idea of him spending time with one of his teammates alone in a hotel room. Where somehow, Kaleb was able to keep Keene out of his head when that’s what he relies on me for.
What were they doing in there that allowed Keene to let off enough steam that…?
Images, ones I never want to see or think, flash through my mind. Kaleb and Keene together. The pinpricks along my skin only grow into a sense of revulsion when I realize…it’s jealousy I’m feeling. Again. Which is ridiculous because Keene is my best friend and Kaleb is straighter than an arrow.
I shake my head to dislodge my train of thought, bringing my attention back to my screen. Keene is silent on his end, not paying me any attention as he washes his body with soap. More and more suds cover every inch of him, and I feel my dick getting thicker behind my shorts at the sight.
It’s confusing—the way my body reacts to his. Even through a phone screen. This doesn’t happen to me with any other guys—fuck, it doesn’t happen often with girls—so why is it so different with him?
What is it about Keene Waters that’s different from the rest of the world?
I don’t know, but I sure wanna figure it out. So naturally, I do the only logical thing that comes to my idiotic twenty-year-old mind.
“Don’t you dare?”
He makes a choking sound as his head snaps to the phone, his hand wiping away the water pouring down his face. “You serious? While I’m in the shower? Reyes could come back to the room at any minute?”
I nod and smirk, rolling my tongue across my teeth.
He scoffs and shakes his head. “Asshole. Fine. What do you want from me?”
Weighing my options is the smart move, though it’s something I should’ve done before I even brought the game up in the first place.
The dares…they’re just a cover. A way for us to have fun while we explore this with each other. Adding a little bit of friendly competition between us.
Exhibit A being the dare he tossed out at me today, which was really awkward when I had to tamp down a boner before one of my two hundred classmates saw it.
Which is why I’m going for some payback.
“I dare you…to prep yourself for me. Right now.”
His eyes lock on mine in challenge, his nostrils flaring. I swear I can see the water turning to steam as it hits his skin beneath the spray of the shower.
“You want me to touch myself while you watch, Pen?
His tone is playful. Taunting with a touch of defiance. It always is when we get like this, in the middle of a dare.
My smile is wicked. “Damn right I do. I wanna watch as your fingers stretch yourself for me. Making yourself feel so good, Kee.” I lick my lips, feeling his lust through the phone screen. “I wanna see you come apart while you imagine my cock sinking deep inside you.”
His throat works to swallow, and I can see his mind spinning.
We haven’t broached this subject past the day we agreed to start messing around. The anal. But logically…that’s the next step. And as insane as it might sound, I want it. To be buried deep inside him. I wanna be the first person to give this to him, while he tries to sort this shit in his head.
And yeah…my dick really likes the idea of fucking my best friend.
Keene’s breathing slows and he steps closer to the camera so I’m only able to see his collarbone and above. I’m transfixed on the way the water falls over the freckles on his shoulders in vividly high definition this close.
His voice comes out like gravel. “You want that?”
Mine is just as rough. “Do you?”
I watch as his head dips down, seemingly looking at the floor before brown orbs grab hold of mine once again. Instead of answering me, he reaches over again and brings a bottle of conditioner I know smells like citrus into view.
Then he steps backward, away from the camera.
Once. Twice.
And then I see it.
His cock. Standing at full mast, begging to be touched as he pours the liquid into his palm.
“Yeah, Pen,” he finally says, his voice low, almost blending with the sound of the water. He grabs his cock, sliding his fist up and down the length, coating and lathering it. “I think it’s pretty clear I do want that.”
I’m transfixed by his cock, the way he strokes it. Rolls over the head on every third upstroke. Fuck, even when he’s prepping his dick, his slight obsessive compulsive tendencies have a way of coming out.
I don’t know why my noticing makes this even…hotter. But I’m scorching.
“That’s mine,” I tell him, my dick aching for me to take pity on it and join him in this little display. But I hold out. I have to or I’ll come within ten seconds of watching him. “What makes you think you can touch it like that?”
The desire in his expression wavers for a moment and he smiles from ear-to-ear. “Yours, huh? Never took you for the possessive one. You jealous of my hand?”
Yes. I want it to be my mouth.
But I’m not about to give him the satisfaction of admitting I want him coming on my chest or down my throat rather than in a shower over a thousand miles away.
God, I’m well and truly fucked here.
“I’m not just talking about your cock, Kee,” I growl out the words. “I’m going to lick every inch of your body before fucking you so hard, you have no choice but to remember what I’m about to tell you. No option but to hear me when I say this.” I lick my lips and lower my voice, my eyes locked on the hand still wrapped around his cock. “You. Are. Mine. You belong to me and me alone.”
I hear a soft intake of breath before Keene visibly shudders at my words. It makes me feel on top of the goddamn world, seeing my effect on him mirrors his on me.
“Fuck, Pen.” A groan escapes him as his hand moves faster over his shaft. “Why’re you not here right now? Why am I in Arizona instead of in your bed?”
“Because you’re the best goddamn catcher Foltyn has had in years. And because if I was there right now…” I trail off, swallowing. “I don’t think I could stop myself from railing you into the goddamn tile wall of that shower.”
“I want that,” he pants, his head lulling back against the wall with his eyes closed. “I want that.”
My cock is throbbing and I reach down and squeeze it, doing my best to tamp down the ache, but it’s not working. At this rate, watching him alone will have me blowing in my pants like a preteen.
Again.
“You’re not ready for me yet,” I tell him. “You have to prep. Go get some lube. Use your fingers. Work yourself open, right now. So I can make it good for you.”
He swallows, still stroking his cock. His head sinks back against the tile wall, getting lost in the pleasure he’s bringing himself. “Keep talking to me, Pen. I’m so close.”
“Keene,” I growl out his name, forcing his eyes to snap back open. He’s not coming. Not until his fingers are in his ass and my name is on his fucking lips. “Put your fingers in your ass.”
He shakes his head. “No lube.”
I lick my lips and squeeze my shaft, refusing to pull myself free. I need my full attention on him. “Use something else. The conditioner.”
Keene releases himself instantly, grabbing for the bottle of conditioner. He squirts a small amount on his fingers before rubbing it around.
“In your ass, Kee. I don’t have all night.” My voice comes out strained. I’m barely keeping myself together as I watch his dick sway when he props one leg up against the wall of the shower stall best he can to get a good angle.
I don’t miss his wince as his index finger presses into him either.
“God, it burns.”
Shit.
“I know, but it’ll get better. I promise. Just breathe.”
I don’t know this. Not at-fucking-all. I could be cluelessly feeding him lies and it gets a lot worse. But I do know one finger won’t be worse than my cock if he isn’t prepared for it.
A deep breath leaves him as he starts working his finger inside him, but his leg keeps slipping down the wall, halting him from getting to where he needs to be. Where I want him.
“Turn and press your knee into the corner.”
He obeys, giving me the most glorious angle to see both his cock and his ass swallowing his finger whole. The new positioning works for him better. He’s able to get in deeper and he even starts stroking his cock again after leaning against the wall to his side for better balance.
He’s a literal wet dream. Hard and muscled and all man, fucking his fist and his ass at the same time. Giving me my own private show.
My God, I might burst at the seams. Nothing I’ve ever done has been this erotic.
A soft moan escapes him and his hand starts moving faster again. But I’m greedy. I need more from him.
“Add another finger. Work yourself open for me.”
“You’re killing me here,” he grumbles, his head slanting against the tile. He listens though, and I watch as a second finger starts to ease inside with the first.
“That’s it, Kee,” I praise him, my voice dripping with heat and arousal, a vice grip around my shaft. I don’t even catch the term of endearment slipping past my lips right away. “You’re gonna be such a tight fit around my cock, baby. Snug and warm and fucking perfect.”
His throat bobs as he swallows. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, pumping himself harder. Faster. Fucking frantic. I can tell the moment he hits the right spot inside his ass—the promised land that is the prostate—because a string of expletives leaves his mouth and cum shoots out of him, coating the wall he’s facing.
And my entire body is on fire.
No, I’ve ignited into an inferno of desire, disintegrating into finely ground ashes as he strokes himself through his climax. Two fingers lodged in his ass. A fist around his cock.
My name leaving his mouth in an impassioned growl, thick with lust.
It’s the greatest thing I’ve ever witnessed. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to wipe this memory from my brain, even if I wanted to.
Keene is a shuddering mess as he pulls his fingers free and starts cleaning up best he can. I can tell he’s exhausted from the heat of the shower, the orgasm, and I’m sure from the game he played earlier as well.
But he’s smiling like an idiot, so that must be a good sign.
Once he’s cleaned himself off as well as the shower, he turns off the water, grabs the phone, and slides down the tiled wall.
“God, that was amazing. I’ve never come like that before.” He runs his fingers through his wet hair, his biceps flexing at the movement.
The sight of them makes me perfectly aware of how hard I still am.
Still, I smile in accomplishment. “Looks like you were right. You have bottom written all over you.”
He snorts. “Until you try it and want to take it away from me, the jackass you are.”
My throat seizes at his words, my skin crawling slightly at the idea of a role reversal. But I don’t comment back sarcastically like I normally would, just hit him with facts.
“You need to keep doing that if you want a dick to fit. I don’t want to hurt you.”
His eyes roll. “I know that. It’s not like I’m gonna try to ride your dick tomorrow or something.”
I try to push that image from my mind, because holy shit, it might be the hottest thing I could imagine. Keene on top of me, my cock sliding in and out of his ass.
“I want you to be able to take a third finger by the time you’re home on Sunday,” I growl out. I try not to think about him spending his downtime finger-fucking his own ass over the weekend because the pain my dick is in might actually cause it to combust. “Do you hear me? I want three of my fingers milking your prostate on Sunday night when you get home.”
He smiles at me through the phone, still sated and happy as a clam, and lets out a sarcastic, “Yes, sir.”
My dick officially has a pulse at this point. “Call me that again. See what happens next time I have you alone.”
Keene just grins wider. “Goodnight, Pen. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I swallow, desperate to keep him on the line so I can get off too, yet knowing he needs to rest for tomorrow. “Of course. Night, Kee.”
The call disconnects and a massive weight hits my chest, more cumbersome than an anvil being dropped from the Empire State Building. Yet instead of focusing on it, I push it aside for the time being. I have to take care of the insane boner tenting my shorts first before I allow myself to analyze what just happened.
Pulling my cock free, I feel hotter and thicker and heavier than ever. It’s almost painful.
Scratch that, it is painful and I need some relief. I don’t even bother with lube, just spit a few times into my palm before taking care of the ache.
And as I picture my best friend fingering his own ass, I come harder than I ever have in my life.
