15. Gabe

CHAPTER 15

GABE

"What are you doing here?"

My voice is rough from sleep, and probably a little from nerves. He's not supposed to be here. They aren't supposed to be back for two more days. I had two more days to figure out what weeks of overthinking couldn't accomplish.

He doesn't answer me. Only leans against the door. His quiet stillness and the dark of the room makes me wonder if my brain is playing tricks on me. It wouldn't be the first time I woke up reaching for him, hoping whatever dream I'd been pulled out of was real. Usually, I just wake up sweaty and sticky and wanting, but this time I can feel his presence instead of empty nothing. I can smell him.

"Ellis?" I croak out, sitting up to get a better look at the faceless shadow, hiding behind a beam of light peeking through my blinds. The bitter chill in the air helps clear some of the fog of sleep.

Finally, he steps forward, just enough that the dim light illuminates the pale skin of his face. His dark jeans and hoodie, and the contrast of his dark hair, make him look like a ghost with the way the light is reflecting off his skin. Except that he looks just as haunted as me. Or maybe it's just the shadows of the room converging beneath his sad eyes. I can hope, but I know better.

The moment he said my name, the moment I knew for sure that he knew my secret, I felt more fear than I ever have in my life. More fear than the day Elliot almost caught us in the equipment room. More fear than the time I almost got hit by a car riding my bike to school. More fear even than getting the call that my mother was in the hospital again.

After I got back to campus, I couldn't bear to be around people. I've spent the past several weeks playing sick. I told my teachers I had mono and continued keeping up with my classes virtually. If they weren't all easy classes, I would have failed them. I managed a B average by the skin of my teeth and because the teachers pitied me. When I showed up for the final exams, my sick excuse looked legit, considering the weight I've lost, the paleness of my skin, and the dark circles under my eyes.

I'm just so tired, although I've done nothing but lie around the past couple of weeks. Knowing they'll be back soon set a fire under my ass. The anxiety and fear of seeing them has made it impossible to sleep, so I've been funneling all my nervous energy into distracting myself. I cleaned the dorm spotless, which it sorely needed after weeks of sulking around, unwashed and uncaring about my surroundings.

I'm pathetic. And too afraid to face him. But now he's here, watching me with those searching eyes, desperate for answers or something to take away his pain.

I know how bad he's hurting, or at least I think I do. I feel like I'm being shredded from the inside out. I'm pissed, and every flare of anger is like a sharp knife through my chest. When the anger fades, there's an unrelenting dull ache. Th e anger hurts more, but it's easier to ride out than the ache, which never seems to go away.

His eyes tell me his pain is even worse than mine. After all, he's been in love with me for a lot longer than I've been obsessed with him. The thought sends another stab of anger through me.

"We can't," I say sternly, doing my best not to betray any weakness. "This can't happen."

They're the only words I've said to him in weeks, and they're all I can spit out now. It was the only response I gave him before blocking his number and deleting my Howler profile. I'm aware of how cruel and cowardly it was to not just avoid him, but to completely cut him off. I look away from him, too ashamed to hold his gaze. I turn and drop my legs over the side of the bed, slumping over to rest my elbows on my knees and rake my fingers through my hair, which has grown too long during the break. At least it's clean today. Digging my palms into my eyes, I sigh, but it comes out more like a growl. Instead of apologizing for my gruffness, I let him think I'm angry. Annoyed. Disgusted.

"Is it because of my brother?" Ellis whispers.

The pain in his voice is a gut punch. It's a struggle not to look at him, but I know he'll read my lies like a book. Instead, I keep my dismissive demeanor and plunge the knife a little deeper into both of us.

"That's part of it," I say, keeping my eyes on the ground in front of me.

There's a stretch of silence that I sink into, panicking at how cornered I feel. Avoidance hasn't helped me one bit over the break, but it's my default coping mechanism when I can't just hit something.

"I'm not gay, Ellis," I spit out .

It's the truth. Or at least I think it is. I'm not attracted to men. I do, however, find most women attractive. I like kissing and touching and fucking women. I've been doing it since I was fourteen and never had any problems.

Until him.

I don't know what's wrong with me, or what it is about him. It's probably just some kind of stupid need for love and attention, because he's always looked at me like he worships me. I always thought he was looking at me the same way he looked at Elliot. It wasn't until junior year that I started paying more attention. That's when I noticed how he looked at me, like I was something special. And I fucking liked it. I still do. Hell, I love it. I want to be everything to him. I want his attention on me. I want him to want me and love me the most out of anyone.

But I can't give it back to him. And we can't be together.

His haunted look turns confused. "But you?—"

"I did it because I felt sorry for you." The lie tastes like acid on my tongue. I swallow it and it burns on the way down, settling in my already roiling stomach.

"No," he whispers, disbelieving. He opens his mouth to point out all the obvious signs that I'm full of shit, but I cut him off with more cruelty.

"I only joined Howler to protect you," I say. That at least has a touch of truth to it. It was a mixture of protectiveness and possessiveness that had me making that profile. "And then I went along with it because I didn't want you to feel rejected. I felt bad. The rest was?—"

"You're full of shit, Gabe," he snaps. Despite not shouting, it's the first time he's spoken above a whisper since coming into my room. His deep voice sounds sultry to me, even through the sharp bite of his tone. He's pissed .

Ellis steps forward until I can see the tips of his black socks infiltrating the patch of floor I've been staring at. My eyes vibrate with the need to see him. I want to trace my gaze over every inch of his body, up his slim legs and over the curve of his hip, along his slim waist and defined chest, up his throat and jawline, before finally settling on those bright blue orbs. If I look, I won't be able to control myself. I've never gotten the chance to really look into his eyes, to see his pupils dilate while I touch him or say all the things he likes to hear. And I never will.

"You touched me," he says, his voice soft but firm. "You kissed me. Everywhere."

He takes another step closer, and I keep my eyes trained on his socks. He moves until he's standing almost directly between my knees. There's no contact between us, and yet I can still feel the heat of his body searing me through the space and our layers of clothing. My traitorous cock fills along the inside of my thigh, but I refuse to give it any attention. I keep myself hunched over and looking down, willing my body and my face to stay passive.

"It didn't mean anything."

"Bullshit," he says, refusing to back down. "You liked touching me." The press of his fingers beneath my chin startles me enough to allow him to force my chin up an inch or so. It might be childish, but I can't look at him, so I screw my eyes shut and tense my jaw against the pressure of his touch.

"I know you liked it. I felt it in the way you touched me, in the way you kissed me. In the way you came so hard for me."

When did he get so bold? I try to open my mouth to form a reply, but he steps even closer, and I hold my breath. The nearness of him is intimidating. The heat of his body, the smell of him, the tangible pull between our two bodies is overwhelming. He tries to coax my chin higher, but I resist. He closes the distance between us, stepping between my thighs. The fabric of his hoodie cushions my face against his flat stomach. I turn my head slightly, chasing the faint sound of his heartbeat, and find myself pressing the side of my head into his body. My hands land on his hips, fingers creeping beneath the bottom of his hoodie to touch his skin. I don't even notice what I'm doing until the heat of his skin sears the pads of my finger, and I have to suck in a breath.

He smells like musk and his sketchpads. He smells like sex. It invades my nostrils and my brain. Clenching my eyes tighter against the heat that prickles behind my eyelids, I allow myself to nuzzle into his stomach, my mouth rubbing against him. My fingers dig into his waist, probably bruising him. I'm not sure if I'm holding him to me or preparing to push him away. Both, I suppose.

Ellis' hands cup either side of my face, tilting it up so my chin is resting on his sternum. I feel small in this position, despite our size difference.

"Please look at me." He's whispering again, pleading. My eyes flutter open, but I don't focus on him. I can't. "Just one time," he says. "Let me see you just one time."

The entire time we were hooking up, I got to have the privilege of seeing him, even if I couldn't look into his eyes. I had the privilege of knowing who I was kissing and touching, while he was left in the dark because I was a coward. I am a coward .

"Give me this one time, and if you still want me to leave you alone, I will."

His breath fans over my lower face, making my lips and tongue tingle with need. He bends lower and brushes his lips against mine, so lightly they're barely touching, and yet I feel it everywhere. A jolt runs through me when his tongue darts out, licking my bottom lip before he gently pulls it between both of his. He sucks it gently, and he might as wel l be sucking on the head of my cock the way it affects me. I moan and press into him.

One last kiss, I tell myself. One last touch.

I move my lips against his, opening for him, trying to let him have this despite my fevered need to take control and consume him. My control lasts all of five seconds, because the moment his tongue licks into my mouth and brushes against mine, I'm gone. I pull him against me, laying back and rolling my body over his. I deepen the kiss, my weight crushing the breath from his smaller frame. He doesn't seem to mind, spreading his legs beneath me to wrap around my hips.

This is a bad idea. I never got to have him in a bed like this. Never got to take my time gently kissing and sucking every inch of his flesh. How am I going to walk away from this? From how good he feels in my arms, beneath me, arching into the way my hips roll between his legs. His body is soft and pliant in a way that I'm familiar with, and yet nowhere near feminine enough to mistake him for anything but a man. Especially the bulge that my hard cock rocks against with every roll of my hips.

Unable to stop myself from sinking into this feeling, my hands press under his hoodie and t-shirt, pulling it up to expose his skin to my tongue and teeth. I halt when my tongue hits metal and pull back.

Oh, Christ.

"You got your nipple pierced?"

"I got it for Christmas. Do you like it?"

The only thing I can do in response is growl and take it in my mouth again. Ellis pulls his shirt over his head before scrambling to rid me of my tank top. Our skin fuses together like magnets, and I suck on his neck, wishing I could permanently mark him as mine. I'll come to terms with the fa ct that he isn't mine, that he'll never be mine, later. Right now, I just want to make the most of every kiss and touch before I gather the willpower to push him away for good.

I can do it. I just need this one last taste.

Despite the chill that was present when I woke, the room is practically a sauna now. Our bodies are slick with sweat as we move to strip each other of our last barriers. I'm thoughtless, weightless, witless, running solely on the instincts of my body. Despite my hands and mouth being responsible, I'm shocked to look down and find us both stripped bare. In my shock, I forget my resolve not to look him in his eyes and end up locked in his intense blue gaze.

Everything from then on is lips and teeth and mouths and hands touching, caressing, gripping, fingernails raking against skin. My hand wraps around both our cocks, using sweat and pre-cum to stroke us both until we're panting, and my balls are drawn up tight. I'm not ready for this to end, so I let go and kiss down his body, turning him over on his stomach so I can lick and suck every part of him. I don't have any lube. I ran out halfway through the break since jerking off to the memory of how Ellis looks and smells and tastes was the only thing I could do outside of lying in bed in a catatonic haze. The real thing has nothing on my memories, though. He's so potent. Everything about him calls to me on a base level.

My fingers dig into the soft meat of his ass as I spread him roughly, my control edged worse than my orgasm. He cries out as my tongue shoves inside his puckered hole, pressing his face into my disheveled bedspread to muffle his moans. I eat him like a starving man, licking and sucking and kissing every part of him I can reach. Ellis hisses when I sink a finger inside, pushing my spit all the way inside him. I pump my finger, looking for that spot I found before winter break, trying not to remember anything else about that night. The way I left him lying on the floor, on his stomach, afraid to move. Is he thinking about it?

I slowly turn Ellis around onto his back, adding more spit and a second finger, bending to take him in my mouth. He fists the sheets, rocking up into my mouth as I suck and finger fuck him. My fingers find that magic button and he detonates, gritting out a slew of curse words that include my name as my mouth fills with his sweet release. The sound of him moaning my name and the taste of his cum have me throbbing, almost ready to bust all over the bedsheets without ever being touched. I'm all but blacked out, not wasting a single second.

Ellis is still spurting cum when I pull my fingers out of his ass and spit my mouthful into my hand, spreading it over my cock. Ellis' breath hitches when I line my cock up to his hole, and he wraps his arms around me. I hesitate, afraid to look into his eyes. Not only will I never recover from his soul-searching gaze as I push into him for the first time, but I'm also on the edge of coming as it is. I feel him nod against my neck, and the tip of my cock pushes against him. The tip barely makes it through that first tight ring of muscle. And that's it.

I'm fucking lost.

Gone .

At the first hint of his tight heat around just the tip of my cock, my orgasm pounds through me like a tidal wave. I lose control, and my hips drive forward. My teeth latch into the crook of his neck as my cock surges all the way inside his body in one thrust.

Ellis lets out a choked cry, his fingernails breaking the skin on my shoulders as my cock pulses inside him. I can't move other than to rock against him as I empty more and more cum inside his ass, filling him with what feels like an endless orgasm, his hole a pulsing vice grip around my t hrobbing cock. I suck in gulps of air against his skin, both because I need oxygen and him infusing every one of my bodily systems.

I do my best to support my body weight on my elbows, but by the time the last aftershocks of my orgasm have worn down, my elbows are shaking. Ellis is still holding on to me, trembling as much as I am.

Reality crashes down around me as I realize I probably just took his virginity. Stole it, since I can't give it back and I'll be running off with it like a thief in the night. And it didn't even last long enough for it to be good for him. I didn't even thrust other than the initial insertion, and it was probably a bit quick. I didn't ease him into it the way I'd imagined, the way I read about and watched on porn sites. I rimmed and fingered him, but maybe I should have stuck it in slower. I should have researched more. Or I shouldn't have taken it at all.

Embarrassed by my performance, I continue to avoid his eyes. I kiss the mark I left when I bit him, soothing it with my tongue and secretly relishing the taste of his blood on my tongue.

"Are you okay?" I ask him quietly when I've caught my breath and thoughts enough to speak. He doesn't speak, only nods. "I'm sorry," I say, kissing the wound again to deflect from what my real apology is about.

Ellis still doesn't say anything, but lets out a soft, pained groan as I slowly drag my softening cock out, shivering at the tight hold he still has on me. Shit, does it hurt coming out, too? His asshole is so tiny, I'm honestly surprised he could take both fingers, let alone my whole cock. Next time I'll go slower, and we'll have real lube. It'll be so much better, I'll redeem myself.

Fuck, what am I thinking? This can never happen again .

I'll never redeem myself, but maybe that's for the best. Maybe being shitty in bed will help Ellis move on.

The hairs on my neck stand up at the idea of Ellis moving on with anyone else. Lying next to him, I pull his back to my chest, holding him tightly against me. Despite knowing I can't have him, the idea of anyone else having him, of anyone else touching him or taking him or claiming him as theirs makes me so angry I want to shove my cock back in his ass and let it live there. But as my fingers run through the wet cum seeping out of his used hole, he flinches, and I freeze.

"You're hurt."

The acid that settled in my stomach before surges, and nausea crawls up my throat. I pull back, hovering over Ellis' body, an acute reminder of how small he is compared to me making me feel dizzy. The dim light is barely enough to see his face clearly, but it's enough to feature the shine of tears in his eyes. My vision blurs with regret, my skin flushing with rage at myself for what I've done.

"I—I hurt you."

It's not a question. It's a fact.

Ellis opens his mouth to say something, probably to try to soothe my feelings, but looks away before he says a word. Fuck. What have I done?

I fucked him, took his virginity without truly asking if it was something he wanted to give. I didn't even look him in the eyes while I did it, just tore into him and pumped him full of cum while I jerked and spasmed on top of him, not knowing that I was fucking splitting him open while I did it. Or maybe beyond caring.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck .

I cut him off before he can say anything, shaking my head violently. Feverishly, I climb out of the bed, aware of the sweat and cum dripping from my body onto the floor. I've made a mess of everything.

"D-Do you need anything? I'm going to get a washcloth or something."

Picking my sleep pants off the floor, I step into them as I rush to the door. In the bathroom, I hurry to wet two washcloths and grab a towel before going back to the room. Ellis is still laying in the middle of my bed, on his side with his knees pulled up to his chest. I lean over the bed with one knee on the edge, smacking Ellis' hand away when he reaches for the first cloth.

"This one is warm," I say before wiping it through the mess, trying not to puke when he flinches. I clean him as gently as I can until the cloth is cool. "This one is cold," I warn him before placing the second cloth between his cheeks. He flinches again, and I can't stand it. I leave him to hold the cold compress on his injured ass and retreat to the bathroom to freshen the warm washcloth.

Horror and revulsion steal the oxygen from my chest and brain when I notice a slight pink tinge in the water I wring from the cloth. I fucking made him bleed? I barely get the toilet seat up before I violently lose the contents of my stomach. When I can stand again, I run back to the room and hit the light switch. Ellis shrinks away from the bright overhead light.

"What the?—"

"You're bleeding!"

"I'm fine, Gabe?—"

"You're not fine, you're fucking bleeding. I'm calling Elliot and he'll take you to a hospital or something."

"Gabe— "

"No, Ellis!" I shout. "I fucking hurt you. I'll never forgive myself." And Elliot never will, either. But after what I've done, I don't deserve either of their love or friendship.

"Elliot isn't even here," he says. "I took a bus back to campus. Elliot went to spend the last couple of days of break with Ashleigh."

"What? Fuck! Um—call one of your gay friends? The tall one?—"

"Gabe."

"Or the pretty one, I don't even care?—"

"Gabe."

"What, Ellis?! You need a doctor or something."

"I'm fine! What are you doing?"

"Getting dressed. Do you need help to get dressed?" I'm afraid to touch him at all now. Afraid to look at him, at any part of him now, not just the eyes. I was rough with him. He could have bruises. And he's going to have to explain what happened to him. That someone who is supposed to take care of him was careless.

I've never hated myself more than I do right now.

"I don't need help getting dressed, and I'm not going to a doctor. I just need a minute."

My arms drop to my sides, defeated. "I just need to make sure you're okay."

"I'm okay," he says in a soft voice.

But I don't believe him. Shaking my head, I grab a hoodie from my desk chair and back out of the room. I grab my keys and wallet from the counter and put my shoes on before I hear Ellis stir. He calls out my name, asking what I'm doing or where I'm going. I don't hear his words, only the pleading tone in his voice as I run away. I don't know where I' m going, but I can't be around him.

I hurt him. The only person I've ever loved outside of my best friend. And I hurt him. First emotionally, then physically. I clearly have no control.

Instead of going down to the lobby, I head up to the fourth floor and knock on the door that I'm pretty sure belongs to Ellis' swimmer friend. I might have stalked him up here once or twice, and spent at least one night glaring at the door wondering if Ellis liked pretty model looking boys like Antoni and worrying over what they were doing or if they were sleeping in the same bed. I'd rather ask the tall guy for help, but I don't know where his room is, and Ellis seems closer to Antoni. He's probably the right choice to help him.

Antoni isn't the one to answer the door. Another guy that I don't recognize who is probably also on the swim team if his half naked body is any indication, tears open the door with a scowl. He sticks his head out the door and looks both ways down the hallway before glaring at me again.

"There's no fire," he says in a thick southern accent. "So why the hell are you bangin' on the door at two o'clock in the damn mornin'?" He's obviously pissed, and I have to admire his backbone, considering I'm easily twice his size.

"I need to talk to Antoni. Please." I'm hoping being polite might speed this along, but he looks even more annoyed now, letting out an exasperated sigh. I give him however long it takes me to take one deep breath and exhale before pushing into the room. "It's an emergency," I say through gritted teeth. "Which room is his?" I ask, marching into the apartment and toward the bedrooms. The set up is more or less the same as ours.

The half-naked roommate walks past me and pounds on a door before yelling, "Antoni! What d id I tell you about letting your hookups find out where you live!"

He gives me an unimpressed glare before disappearing into his own room, just before Antoni opens his door, looking like some kind of cartoon character with weird pastel colored jelly things stuck all over his face. He's clutching a short, silk robe closed at the chest like he might be naked and is clearly half asleep. But when I tell him Ellis needs him, his eyes fly open, and it only takes him a second before he's flying out of the room behind me.