12. Gabe

CHAPTER 12

GABE

"Eighty-seven percent!"

Ellis' voice is encouraging, but I feel deflated. I need to ace my Applied Mathematics final to get a high enough grade to keep my scholarship. Despite spending weeks busting my ass, and Ellis' help, I haven't done well enough on all my assignments and tests to pull my grade up high enough, and now everything depends on the final. I have to get at least a ninety-four on the final exam in order to keep the required B average, and there's only a week and a half left to study.

Ellis nudges my thigh with his toes, and I shift the book in my lap to cover my growing erection. I've been at half-mast for over an hour, since we settled on his bed to study while we wait for Thanksgiving dinner to be ready. Him touching me with any part of his body is too much for me to handle. Reflexively, I reach out and grab his foot before he can pull it back. I hold it threateningly, knowing how much Ellis despises having his feet tickled. When we were younger, he'd piss himself if he was tickled too much, and his feet are incredibly sensitive .

"Gabe," he says warningly, trying to pull his foot back. I hold on to it tightly, loving my name on his lips. I give him a threatening grin that makes him flush.

My cock jerks hard enough that the book moves, but I'm able to play it off well enough so he wouldn't guess what's happening below my belt. I want nothing more than to jerk his foot hard enough to pull him flat on the bed and do terrible, dirty things to him that would make his mother disown us both if she knew what was going on up here. Ellis swallows, and I realize I'm staring, probably with a very heated look in my eyes considering where my thoughts have gone. I run a finger lightly over the arch of his foot, smirking at the way he attempts to squirm away. He's not telling me to stop, which is interesting.

The tension between us in the past few weeks has been palpable. I find him watching me more than he did before, and he doesn't always shy away when he sees that I've noticed. He's starting to be a little less agitated in my presence, and we've relaxed into a sort of friendship—if friends imagine each other naked and send each other anonymous dirty texts at night. I pretend I don't know he wants me and tease him in ways that are obviously suggestive. And he takes his sexual frustrations out on his anonymous boyfriend, which also happens to be me. Which he still doesn't know.

I really thought he'd figured me out the night we met in the dugout. The way he looked at me when I came out of the bathroom after showering off the dirt, drool, and cum that I was covered in after our hookup—I was sure he knew. Hell, for a split second, I had zero doubts. After Elliot went to bed, I stared at the bathroom door, convincing myself to go in and talk to Ellis. But by the time he'd finished showering and dressing in his brother's sweatpants, I'd chickened out and hid behind my door while he tucked himself into the couch. I didn't sleep at all that night, too aware of his presence, too afraid that he knew. If he did, thou gh, why wasn't he confronting me?

He'll hate me when he figures it out. I'm playing a cruel game, but I can't stop myself. I want so much more than what I can offer him in return. I want all of him.

Other than little nudges or a playful pinch here and there, this is the most I've touched him since the night in the dugout. Almost getting caught— again —scared me enough to pull back, even though I'm desperate for him. Evidenced by the now painfully hard erection I have from just holding his foot. I don't have a foot fetish. Far from it, I normally find feet disgusting. But there's nothing on him I don't find tantalizing. Case in point—assholes. If there's one part of a body, especially a man's body, that I would consider to be the most disgusting, I'd say it'd be an asshole. But Ellis' asshole? I suppress a shudder just thinking about it. His is sweet and perfect, and my mouth waters remembering bending him over the counter in the equipment room and tasting him. I've craved it ever since. Craved his?—

A throat clears. Elliot stands in the doorway, face and nose flushed from playing football with some of the family that's gathered downstairs.

"If he pisses on your homework, you're going to be sorry."

He quirks a grin when I turn to hold his brother's foot in the crook of my arm, ready for a struggle. Ellis lets out a piercing shriek as my fingers dance over the bottom of his foot and he starts thrashing.

"Goddamn it, Gabe! Get off!"

He twists himself so his stomach is on the bed, and I have to lean back against the back of his thighs and ass to hold his foot. The book goes flying off my lap in the tussle, but thankfully we're all distracted by their mom yelling up the stairs .

"Boys! Behave yourselves!"

I let go of his foot, bending forward to cover up my massive boner. The laughter is enough of a cover, and is genuine, because that shit was hilarious outside of potentially getting caught in my best friend's brother's bed with a hard-on. That part is awkward and kind of hurts.

"Get washed up for dinner," Mama Hope calls up the stairs. "And someone needs to help me set this table!"

"Yes, ma'am!" We all call back, and I yell that I'll be down in a moment to help her.

She thinks I'm 'such a good boy', but I try to help as much as possible when I'm here. She's practically a second mom to me. My mom is supposed to be joining us for dinner, but there's no telling if she'll actually turn up. I spent most of the day and night with her yesterday, but I've been with the Hopes all day today. Normally I'd sleep over, but I'm not sure if I will tonight. The temptation to rip the mask off is getting too strong. I need to get my shit together and end this before it gets worse, or before he figures it out.

Elliot disappears from the doorway, and I look down at Ellis, who's pulled himself back up to sitting, arms around his knees.

"You okay?" I ask, gaze darting over him.

"I didn't piss myself, if that's what you're asking," he snaps, but I can hear the humor in his tone.

My lips quirk. "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," he says, his blue eyes locked on mine. Heat flushes over me, and the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

It's not like I can tell him outright that I was trying to cover the way I was looking at his foot like something I want to lick, not to mention the huge boner I have right now. So I jut my hand out like I'm about to grab for his foo t again. When he moves away, I can see the telltale bulge of his own boner. Averting my eyes, I cover my quick departure with a peel of maniacal laughter.

Before heading downstairs, I head into the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face. I need to calm down and do something about this hard-on before I'm never invited back. I feel awkward rubbing one out when Elliot almost just caught me in a compromising moment, but I might not have a choice. I'm harder than fucking steel, and each step I take is excruciating.

My phone pings, and I pull it from my pocket to find a message from Ellis. It's a picture of his hard cock, the red tip exposed and glossy. I let out a huff of frustration that I can't walk back across the hall and suck the cum out of him like a pre-dinner cocktail.

ELLISH: Help me.

ELLISH: I can't go down to Thanksgiving dinner like this.

JOHNNY: Well, that is a problem.

JOHNNY: And now I have one, too.

Scrambling to think of an idea, I shut the lights off and use the flash, making sure there's nothing in the background to give my location away. I send a picture of my hand wrapped around my throbbing erection.

ELLISH: I wish I could feel you in the back of my throat again.

Fuck.

Another message comes through, a GIF of him stroking himself. I can see the blanket his grandma knitted him when he was a kid in the background, and for whatever reason, it turns me on more knowing he's in his childhood bedr oom thinking of me. I turn on my flashlight and set the camera against a box of tissues, carefully aiming the camera so I'm only visible mid-thigh to belly button. I drop my pants to my ankles and pull my shirt up under my chin, sending him a message before I push record.

JOHNNY: Show me that pretty pink asshole.

The picture he sends me comes through while I'm recording myself, with my balls in one hand, my other stroking my cock furiously. The moment the picture comes through, my orgasm pops off unexpectedly, and I shout, quickly cupping my palm over the head of my cock to stop the geyser of cum from painting their bathroom walls and getting all over me. Struggling to contain it all, I press stop on the camera and grab the closest towel, panting as I stroke out the rest of my orgasm into the fabric before turning the light back on.

"Are you okay in there?" Elliot says, knocking on the door.

"Yeah, man! I just, uh, stubbed my toe." I cringe as I look down at the decorative towel in my hands. The colorful handprint turkeys, which I'm pretty sure are copied from some art the boys did in first grade, are covered in gobs and streaks of my release. Whoops.

After cleaning the towel as well as I can with hand soap and water, and making sure I'm presentable, I send the video before I walk downstairs and try to pretend that didn't just happen. On my way past Ellis' door, I hear the recorded version of me shout, and then I really do stub my toe against the stair banister.

A few hours later, Ellis watches me from the porch as I gently set my mom in the passenger side of her car. She's not supposed to drink with her meds, so even two glasses of wine have done her in. He runs down the steps and across the driveway before I make it to the driver's side door .

"Hey, Gabe?"

When I turn to look at him, his eyes are solemn and thoughtful. I'm struck again with the thought that maybe he does know something, but his reasoning for running across the yard barefoot are different than what I brace myself for.

"We still have over a week to study for finals. Don't stress over it too much. We've got this."

We've got this. He said we .

Not trusting myself to speak, I nod and climb into the car to drive my mom home.

ELLISH: How did your finals go?

JOHNNY: Not terrible. Looks like I'll get to hang around here at least another semester.

ELLISH: We should celebrate.

JOHNNY: What did you have in mind?

ELLISH: When do you leave for break?

JOHNNY: Sunday. You?

ELLISH: Tomorrow. Can you meet tonight?

JOHNNY: It's freezing, and it's supposed to rain tonight.

ELLISH: You live in the athletic dorms, right?

JOHNNY: Yes…

ELLISH: Meet me in the gym at 2AM.

I'm a fucking idiot.

Watching Ellis smile as he texts me from across the dining hall, I feel like an utter piece of shit. I'm lying about more than who I am. I'm lying about everything. I'm not even leaving for winter break, but it's just one more lie to throw him off my trail.

Like every year since we were kids, I was invited to go skiing with their family over the break, but I declined. I don't see a point in going home and torturing myself by being around Ellis, and lying to my best friend is getting heavy. He knows something's up, but now that finals are over, I can't use them to cover my constant nervousness. Plus, I need the easy course load of the winter classes to boost my GPA. The team's academic advisor recommended it.

And I think it's for the best that I get some space from Ellis. Having him here all the time is making it hard to breathe. He's like an itch beneath my skin that I can't soothe without peeling parts of myself away. I should make an excuse, or say I need to leave early, but I'm a fucking fiend and it's been too long since I've had my hands on him. I want to touch his smooth skin and hear his moans in real life one last time. Before he's gone for winter break. Before I use the time apart to come up with a solution, to find out how to break things off for good. Before I can't have him anymore.

I'll live the rest of my life in agony, but it's better than hurting him. It's better than breaking my best friend's trust more than I already have.

I can't keep up this game forever, but I'm too much of a coward to tell them what I've done.