Our flight lands back in Oregon later than I would like on Sunday evening. I’m down-right exhausted from playing the double header today and my body is literally aching from squatting behind the plate all day.
Even though my body is used to this, trained for it year-round, I always feel like an extra on the set of The Walking Dead when we play so many games in a row, but especially with going into extra innings last night. I didn’t even have time to call Pen after the game before I was knocked out from fourteen innings; just a quick good night text to tell him I’d talk to him today.
That was before one of the games went long today too, making it thirty-five innings total in less than twenty-four hours. Needless to say I didn’t have time to do anything but eat and sleep and play ball since Pen and I…FaceTimed in the shower on Friday night.
God, even if I haven’t had the time or energy to do as he asked and prep myself for him apart from Friday, that phone call has been replaying through my mind at every moment when my head hasn’t been focused on the game.
Never in my life would I have thought I’d be fingering my own ass in the shower while on FaceTime with another dude, let alone with Pen. But hell if that wasn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. I loved every second of it. Not a goddamn thing about the act felt weird or foreign or wrong.
Listening to the deep growl in his voice, obeying his demands, it was natural. Instinctual, even. Like my body and my mind just knew that if I did what he said, there was no chance in hell I wouldn’t enjoy myself.
I wasn’t kidding when I told him I’ve never come harder in my life.
And I want that again. And again and again and a-fucking-gain.
With his fist wrapped around my length, his fingers deep inside me. His tongue even, because I’d be willing to try anything once.
And his cock? Most definitely.
I want his dick inside me like I’ve never wanted anything more. I want to know what it feels like to be fucked by my best friend. While that might sound and be problematic, I still want it. There’s no other person in this world I’d trust with something like this. Only him.
Which makes me insanely grateful he offered himself up for this.
My jeans tighten slightly as I try to stop my train of thought. I’m not exactly looking to be sporting a boner walking through campus. Even if it’s deserted at this time of night.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad to be back and able to see him, though.
I barely had time to eat and sleep, let alone talk to him much while I was gone. That’s standard for a lot of road trip weekends, but usually at least once a day, I have some downtime. So I don’t know if this time it feels different because I really was constantly going or because our relationship is…shifting.
Either way, I’m not about to overanalyze it.
But I will say, when I opened my phone to see a see you soon text from Pen, one that had a fucking smiley face emoji after it, my stomach did a little flip. Because Pen doesn’t smile all that often, and definitely not in texts with emojis.
And I don’t know; it made me feel good. Even in a state of being asleep as I walk on my Jell-O legs into our dorm, I still feel my stomach trying to learn gymnastics. Butterflies or whatever.
I slide my key card into the slot of the door and enter our suite as quietly as possible, surprised to find a lamp left on in the living area. It’s almost one in the morning and I know Pen has to be asleep since he wakes up early—at five in the morning—to run before class on Mondays. And usually every other day of the week.
The guy is legit crazy to wake up that early by choice. I purposely don’t have class until after noon on Mondays in the spring semester because of this exact situation, and honestly, even in the fall term, I’d prefer not to learn before ten. What can I say? I’m not an early bird and I have no desire to catch any worms.
Still, there’s no way he’s awake right now. Which means he left it on for me.
I try not to focus too much on how that realization sends my stomach into more somersaults and fucking backflips.
Slipping quickly into my room and closing the door, I discard my bag and strip down, welcoming the sight of my bed. Even if it’s not the best bed in the damn world, it’s at least mine. Not in a hotel room thousands of miles from here. From normalcy.
From Pen.
For as long as I can remember, we wouldn’t spend more than a few nights, a week at most, away from each other. Sure, we lived in our own homes, but our bedroom windows faced each other from across the street for our entire lives. It was just the way things were between us. Even shared a bed on occasions, and there was never a time when it became a thing. Even at sixteen, we’d sleep in the same damn bed, no issues to be found.
I mean, it’s not like we snuggled or anything. Hell, most of the time he’d flail to the point where a pillow ended up lodged between us, anyway.
But now…
I shake my head, trying to shake off the thoughts I’m having. It doesn’t seem to work, though. Instead I find myself tiptoeing out of my room, under the impression I’m going to grab some water from the small kitchenette we have in our suite. Which I do. But as soon as it’s gone, I find myself at his door.
It’s slightly cracked, the way it always is. He hates sleeping with his door closed completely, though that’s one thing I’ve never asked why. Just like he always has a thunderstorm podcast playing while he sleeps. Things I don’t question anymore, they’re just Pen things.
Peering into his room like this sets me on edge and I feel creepy as hell. But God, all I want is to curl up next to his warm body right now. Let his presence soothe the ache in my muscles and in my chest from being away from him the past few nights.
Damn, I sound like a needy bitch right now.
Still, it doesn’t stop me from crossing the room and peeling back the covers from his bed, sliding into place beside him.
He’s facing the wall, not stirring at all as my weight shifts the mattress. It’s not ‘till I turn on my side and wrap my arm around his waist beneath the sheets that he literally bolts upright in the bed.
“It’s just me,” I whisper, grabbing his hand.
“Kee?” My nickname comes out filled with sleep and gravel. It’s sexy as hell, even more so than the dominating voice he used with me while I showered the other night.
Goosebumps rise on my skin at the thoughts reappearing, though I’m not about to act on anything. I’m too exhausted to even think about blowjobs or hand jobs or even making out. My body might dissolve into a puddle of goo if I have to do anything other than sleep for the next ten hours.
“Yeah, it’s me. Go back to sleep.”
He lets out a soft groan before stretching and sliding back down into place beside me. A warm, muscular arm reaches around me and pulls me against him, and I almost stop breathing when he nudges his head into the crook of my neck.
“You turn off the light I left on for you?” He speaks the question into my shoulder as I slip one arm under him, the other over him. His hot breath on my skin has me on full alert.
My words come out mangled. “I did. Thanks.”
He pulls me tighter against him, our bare chests pressing together as our legs tangle. Holding me closer than he ever has dared before as a kiss is pressed to the side of my head.
And I can’t breathe. We’ve never been this close. He isn’t affectionate. Ever. But right now, it feels like…fuck, I don’t want to think about how it feels.
Then he rests his forehead against mine, and I can’t stop myself from snaking my hand up to the back of his head to hold him there. Never fucking let him go. Not until I ingrain every second of this moment in my mind.
“I’m so tired,” I grumble after a few quiet beats, rubbing my nose against his. “But my mind is still wired from the games.”
Just the game. Not about how whatever is happening right now might send me to my grave from asphyxiation or a heart attack.
A low rumble comes from deep within his chest and throat. “Do you want to talk it out?”
I glance up at the ceiling where his fancy-ass alarm clock projects the time, telling me it’s almost one-thirty in the morning. Less than four hours from when Aspen wakes up.
I feel guilty as hell for waking him up in the first place. No way will I make it longer.
I shake my head, my forehead brushing against his. Fingertips trace along my spine, then up to my shoulders where he starts drawing random lines and shapes with the heat of his skin.
It’s an act I’m becoming dangerously attached to, even if it’s the first time I’ve ever felt it.
But it’s soothing and loving. Exactly what I need to calm my mind, even if it causes my heart to pound in return.
“I’m fine.”
“You sure? I watched both games. I swear, I don’t mind.”
I smile. Of course he did. He always watches my games. And I’d almost believe him about staying up to talk through them with me if it weren’t for him turning away to yawn before nuzzling against me again.
“Yeah, I’m sure you don’t.” I laugh softly, running my hand through the closely cut sides of his hair, up into the long strands he keeps on top. It’s so silky and smooth and smells like his shampoo as I rustle it. I could play with it all day and never get bored of it slipping between my fingers.
“Mmm. Feels good,” he murmurs, his lips brushing mine as he speaks the words. It emboldens me to take them with mine for a few seconds in a gentle kiss. It makes him smile against mine. “That does too.”
I can’t help but grin back. “Go back to sleep.”
“Mmm,” he mutters again before pressing a kiss to my lips once more.
The pads of his fingers continue to dance over my skin for another five minutes or so before coming to rest. His breathing evens out, but just when I think he’s back asleep and surely not going to remember a goddamn thing from this encounter, he lets out a soft whisper.
“Hey, Kee?”
“Yeah?”
“I missed you.”
My stupid heart squeezes. “I missed you too, Pen.”
