28. Cole

Samson whistles to a tune I’ve never heard as we walk down the sidewalk. Keith and a few other lads from the team are here too. We’ve gone to a few bars, only getting into two of them with our fake IDs.

Keith is drunk because he has no idea how to stop at two shots. I think he downed a full bottle of tequila before the dude behind the bar said he wasn’t serving him any more. Samson is of age, though – he’s the one who’s been going to the bar for us.

I check my phone, feeling uneasy that I haven’t heard a word from Blaise. On social media, he’s tagged in photos in Shingles, a bar just down the street that I may or may not have tricked my group into going to.

His friend has his arm over his shoulders as he smiles for a group photograph.

It’s tagged as “Dream Team,” and it annoys me enough that I change the settings to hide any further posts from his friends. Petty, but I don’t care. He can happily sit with his friends and talk to them, but he can’t spare a second to ask me what I’m doing, or if I’m missing him?

He doesn’t even know I’m out.

When we reach the bar, I stand outside and light a cigarette, pressing my foot into the wall. Keith hovers before he checks his surroundings and lights one too.

“Why are you acting sketchy?”

“I told my new girl I’d quit smoking.”

“I thought she was out of town?”

“She is,” he replies, checking around us again between each draw. “But her folks or friends might catch me.”

I chuckle and inhale, filling my lungs with the toxic smoke while I slide my phone out again and spot a new message that has my heart accelerating.

Blaise: Your friends are here.

Well, well, well. He remembers I exist. I put the smoke between my lips and type out a reply, but then I pause. It hasn’t even been a full minute since the message has been received. Will I look desperate if I reply right away?

Tucking my phone back in, I listen to Keith talking about his new girlfriend, and how his parents nearly kicked his ass for the broken window. I offered to pay a few days ago, but he refused and said it was his fault since he was the one who made up the game in the house and locked everyone in. He didn’t know Jackson had a gun, or that he was fucking Allie.

Not that I care. Allie has become nothing but a faint memory in my mind. The ex who cheated constantly, who never made me happy, and the more I think about her, I hated the bitch for the way she thought she could manipulate me on a daily basis.

Imagine I actually liked her?

Keith follows me inside, and I try not to hunt the place for Blaise. I know he’s sitting at a booth, right in front of the dancefloor, to the left of the bar. There’s an Elvis poster above his head, and he’s beside that moron.

I reach the bar, and Samson orders us all drinks while one of the guys finds us our own booth. The music isn’t too loud, so I can hear Tiago talking. I follow the voice, and my gaze clashes with a green one, staring at me from the other side of the bar.

Blaise and his friends must have fakes too as they order more booze, but he’s staring at me while his lips move, talking to the waitress.

For a long moment, I’m trapped here. It’s like I’m entering a subspace without the push. He’s watching me, hunger in his eyes, possessive, and I have the urge to grab him by the throat, pin him to the bar, and claim him in front of everyone.

To make sure everyone here knows he’s fucking mine.

Someone shoulders me. “Hey, man. Stop growling at your little bro and come sit down.”

My annoyance is short-lived when Keith is summoned by one of Blaise’s friends – they’re in the same study group, if I remember correctly. They invite us to sit with them, and as we close in, Blaise walks toward his booth from the opposite direction. The closer our proximity gets, my heart races powerfully. It’s stupid, getting all wound up because he’s close to me. Closer. Closer. Fucking closer.

He slips into the booth when I reach it, and his friend drops in beside him, but I place my beer on the table and jut my chin to the side. “Move.”

Blaise goes ramrod beside him. His friend narrows his eyes. “Me?”

I tilt my head. “I’m looking at you. Move.”

Finding his words through a chortle and a disdained look, he looks flabbergasted. “Excuse me?”

“Just fucking move.”

My friends are silent, probably wondering what the fuck is going on.

Hesitantly, he takes his cocktail and slides out, giving me a strange look while I take his place. My thigh presses to Blaise’s, and my blood thrums hot in my veins. There’s adrenaline fucking pumping so fast that I can hear it roaring in my ears. My eye twitches, and I pause when I feel Blaise’s lips against my ear. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head and take a drink, gulping down half the bottle. I have no idea what’s wrong with me. Everyone’s just sitting around, chatting shit, bobbing their heads to music or flirting, and I’m hitting a rager.

“Cole,” he whispers, secretly grabbing my thigh under the table – no one can see, because I’m his little secret. He doesn’t want anyone to know about us, or he would have smiled when he saw me, kissed me, or some other romantic shit.

I hold my breath at the pain in my chest. It burns. Everything burns, especially when I down another five gulps of my beer and finish the bottle.

“Jackson called any of you?” Samson asks, and it catches my attention enough that I can fill my lungs. “The asshole has been extra quiet lately. Ever since that mess at your place.”

Keith shrugs. “I told him to pay for damages. The dickhead smashed the house up and left cum on my dining table, not to mention all the shit he did to Blaise.” He looks at him. “I’m sorry, man. That wasn’t the plan. We just wanted us all to hang out. We thought you’d bring your friends too.”

“He didn’t even ask us!” one says. “He’s been too busy with Mia to know we exist the last few weeks.”

My eyes snap to him. “They don’t know you broke up with her?”

“You what?” all of his friends retort at the same time.

Blaise shrugs and takes a drink of beer. “It’s not a huge thing.”

“Mia and Blaise, set to be the epic lovers. You seriously want us to believe that’s it?”

My eye twitches again, and I grit my teeth and look down at Blaise’s hand still on my thigh. He’s squeezing it so hard, trying to get my attention, but I fist my hands instead and pretend I’m not losing it while they talk about how good they were together.

“What about you and Allie?” Samson asks me. “You two done?”

“Yeah,” I reply sternly, trying to stay calm.

“What happened there? You finally accepted she was a cheat and saw you deserved better?”

I shake my head, and the words slip out without needing to think. “I broke up with her because I’m not into girls.”

They all stop and stare at me.

Why are they acting like it’s a big thing?

“Is there an issue with me being gay?”

They all shake their heads, and Samson grins like the Cheshire Cat before toasting. “To Cole leaving the closet!”

For some reason, I smile, chuckling at how happy he is. Something settles within me, and instead of taking Blaise’s hand under the table, I throw it over the back of him, resting it on the booth. The position presses me up against him, and I watch them all connect the dots.

Blaise is still as a statue, except his breathing has become heavy and forced through his nostrils. His fingers press into my thigh more, and I can feel myself growing excited at his anxiety.

“You two?” Blaise’s friend says. “You two are…together?”

Blaise grabs his beer and downs it. “Is that a problem?”

“Wow,” Keith blurts. “I didn’t see that coming. Not gonna lie. Wow. Aren’t you, like, underage?” he says to Blaise.

I frown. “He’s just about to turn nineteen, you asshole. I’m twenty.”

Samson is grinning. “Your parents are gonna lose their shit.”

Blaise stiffens beside me, but I drop my arm over his shoulder and squeeze it, pressing my thigh up against his. I’m claiming him, officially. Everyone here now knows that I own him, and he owns me. Why does that make me feel so giddy?

I order another beer, and two hours later, we’re all laughing at Tiago dancing on the table as others around us cheer him on. Keith is on the phone, the other guys are either flirting with someone or drunk and dancing, and Blaise and I are still sitting in the booth.

“Let’s go home,” he whispers in my ear. “I want to be alone with you.”

Fuck. His words make my balls tingle, and I turn to him and grin. “Getting all desperate?”

“If I say yes, can we leave?”

“One more drink,” I say, my nose bumping off his, in public, where everyone can see. His eyes flicker down to my mouth, and I close the distance, kissing him softly, briefly enough to drive him insane, before I yank myself away and hop over the back of the booth to get us more drinks.

Blaise slamsme against the door as soon as it closes behind me. He’s devouring my mouth like he’s a starved animal, sucking and kissing and pulling off my shirt and messing my hair.

He fists the strands at the back of my head and presses our bodies together, sliding his tongue against mine and grinding his thick cock into my own.

Fuck. He’s killing me. I keep trying to get his sweater off but he’s pinning my hands to the wall and robbing me of air while strangling the living fucking life out of me.

Pulling me away from the front door by the throat, we nearly break my mom’s favorite vase as we hit the tabletop. Blaise drags me along the entrance way, not stopping devouring my mouth as he demands everything. We barely make it halfway up the stairs before he unfastens the buttons on my jeans and shoves his hand down them to fist my cock.

I let out a deep groan and drop my head back onto the stair while he strokes me. He’s squeezing and twisting at the tip, making me even harder than humanly possible.

“I want to fuck you,” he says against my mouth, sliding his tongue against mine and snatching my bottom lip between his teeth, pulling it back until it’s painfully snapping into place. Copper fills my mouth, and I kiss him harder. As if I might die if I stop.

Blaise pulls away from my mouth and looks down between our bodies, watching the way he fucks me with his hand. The precum beads at the tip, begging for more.

“My room or yours?”

“Yours is closer,” I say, panting as he strokes faster. “Fuck, Blaise. You’re gonna make me come.”

He lets go, and I feel like murdering the dickhead.

“Not yet,” is all he says as he pulls me up and drags me to his bedroom. He slams his door shut and pushes me, taking full control of my body as I drop onto the mattress. Curling his fingers into the waistband of both my jeans and boxers, he slides them down my legs to free my cock.

I can see how much he wants me. His eyes, the starved look, how much his pants are tenting, the way he kisses me as he lowers onto me and sucks on my tongue while simultaneously grinding against my bare dick.

Blaise leaves my mouth, kissing along my jaw while nipping with his teeth. The sensation rushing through me has me squirming under him. Why the fuck is he still fully dressed?

I groan as he sucks the skin on the side of my throat, marking me – his claim. Then he kisses down farther, my collarbone, his hands everywhere but on my dick while he kisses down my heaving chest.

His eyes flick up just as his tongue circles my nipple, and fuck, I hold my breath and feel the solid slam inside my balls with how good it feels. He captures it with his teeth, and I pulse between my legs, my spine twisting and making me arch my chest into his mouth more as he sucks and licks and bites and scrapes his blunt nails down my side.

“Fuck,” I breathe.

Grinning against my skin, he travels down until he’s sucking on my ribs, my hips, making me tense every single muscle as he grabs my cock with both hands and pumps while he stares at how much I’m leaking.

“You’re making a mess of my bed, Cole,” he says, his eyes on mine as he drags his tongue up the underside of my dick, dodging the sensitive area of my tip.

“If you don’t suck my dick right now, I’ll beat your ass.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “You seem to forget who is in control here.”

Blaise flips me over so damn easily, I barely register my new position as he palms at my ass cheeks and spreads them, and when something wet and warm touches my tight hole, I press my face into his pillow and moan.

“You love getting your ass eaten, don’t you?”

I don’t reply. I can’t. He’s sinking his tongue as far as he can, and I’m pushing back against his face, thrusting my cock against his sheets while he fucks me with his tongue. It feels too good. I’m gonna explode soon if he keeps going.

“Fuck,” I moan, since it seems to be the only word left in my vocabulary at the moment. I repeatedly mutter it into the pillow while Blaise spreads my cheeks more and slaps me hard enough to hurt, but I clench around his tongue, nearly finding my release before he stops altogether and turns me. He steps off the bed, panting, his cock almost breaking through as he tosses off his sweater and shirt, then gets entirely naked.

“In the drawer,” he says, nodding beside me. “Lube. Grab it.”

I do as he says, happy to see it’s unopened. He climbs on top of me again, his arms straight so he can watch me pump it a few times until the wet, cold liquid comes out.

Blaise coats his fingers with it, and I do the same, like we know what we both need. To be filled. To be fucked. To rub our cocks together. His mouth smashes on mine, thrusting into my cock as he reaches under me and presses his sticky fingers to my back hole. I do the same, spreading him with one hand while the other positions where he needs me.

We thrust together, our fingers and cocks, and Blaise swears against my mouth and kisses me harder. All that can be heard in his bedroom is our moans, the wet, slippery sounds of our fingers, and the way Blaise pants and rubs his cock into mine faster.

His precum is everywhere, and so is mine. Mixed together. My balls ache for release as his fingers go deeper, but I want more. I need more.

“Do it,” I demand.

Blaise freezes. “What?”

“I want you to fuck me, Blaise. Do it. Just fucking do it.”

Hesitantly, he slips his fingers out of my ass and straightens his arms to look down at me. “You’re sure?”

Nodding desperately, I move my cock against his, my fingers slipping away and grabbing at his hips. I chase his mouth and kiss him. “Do it.”

Blaise pulses against me as he searches my face, then he pulls away enough to flip me over. “If it hurts, I’ll stop. Don’t you fucking dare let me do this if it’s hurting you.”

He’s saying all these words while he squirts more lube, and I whimper as some drops onto my back. Everything is sensitive, and I think I might die if he doesn’t hurry up.

Lying down on top of me, he settles his cock between my ass cheeks as his hand slides up my side, under my chest, and snatches at my throat. He yanks my head up, tilting me enough to kiss me, his tongue playing with mine. It’s a soft and slow kiss, distracting me as he thrusts faintly against my ass.

His hips pull right back, and he positions himself so the tip is nudging at my tight hole. It throbs, my dick throbs, my balls throbs, my fucking heart throbs as he kisses me deeply and eases in. The tightness and burn have me choking, but he keeps kissing me with each inch.

“Relax,” he orders as he slides another inch inside, gradually thrusting, more like pulsing his hips to get me used to it. It’s different. A little sore, but fuck, it’s good. I absently rock my hips with him, forcing him deeper. He gasps and pauses, groaning as I move against him and he stays still.

“Fuck me,” I grit through my teeth. “Fucking fuck me like you hate me.”

His jaw tenses, and he opens his eyes. The green is gone, overtaken by the darkness. I choke on air as he pulls back so just the head is in and slams deep. His eyelids fall closed again, and he groans as he does it over and over.

He arches me up by the throat, dives into the sensitive skin under my ear, and bites and sucks as he fucks into my ass.

His fingers wrap around my cock, stroking me while his thrusts get harder, faster, more fucking erratic as I struggle for breath from how good it feels.

Hitting something deep, my insides light up like fireworks, and my eyes ping open at the intense feeling, the sensation ripping through me with my orgasm.

“Blaise,” I moan. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

I paint cum all over his sheets as he strokes and keeps pummeling. He doesn’t slow down or give me a second to realign with reality; he loses his control and pulls me fully onto all fours and grabs my hips.

Each thrust feels like I’m freefalling into something magical. Each time he groans, there’s a thump in my balls, and I force myself back into him.

As his hand slams down on my cheek, and the deep tunnel of my ass tightens around him, I feel him getting even harder. He fists the hair at the back of my head and uses it to control me, fucking faster, thrusting longer, slapping the side of my ass, then fisting my cock that refuses to go soft.

Stopping mid-thrust, he lets out the most addictive sound as his cock pulses inside me, pumping me full of his cum that feels so fucking good. I think more cum leaks from me too, dripping down my thigh.

He collapses on top of me, both of us panting and gasping for air. Grabbing my chin, he turns me to look at him. “You good?”

I nod once and he kisses my forehead—something I never thought would make me fight a grin, but here I am. I kiss him fully, layering my mouth on his softly.

“I love you,” I say, still trying to breathe properly as his cock softens and slips out of me. “When the fuck did that happen?”

He laughs and rolls onto his back beside me, his chest rising and falling as he comes down from the high.

The knock at the door and a deep voice make me jump. Blaise shoves me off the bed and out of sight, pulling a blanket over himself, just in time for his dad to open the door.

“Blaise,” he says, and my eyes widen. “What happened downstairs? The place is wrecked, and Cole’s clothes are on the floor.”

“No idea. Why are you home? Rachel said you were going to be staying away a while longer.”

“Oh, she’s staying there. She needs space.”

My brows knit together. He doesn’t even sound like he cares.

“Are you and Rachel okay?”

“No, son. But it’s fine. Can you find your brother and tell him to clean up his mess?”

The door closes, and I get to my knees and look over at Blaise. He gathers my cum on his sheets. “What he said.” He sticks his fingers in his mouth, tasting me. “You wanna clean up your mess?”