5

Spencer

I thought seeing Luke come the first time would be enough to get him out of my system, but all it’s done is make the feeling worse.

He’s still wearing a shirt. Dipping under the soft gray fabric is almost instinctual, my fingers splaying over his taut stomach like we’ve done this a hundred times. Luke bites his lip, writhing against me, and the sight of him like this goes straight to my cock.

Promising myself this is the last time, I lick a long stripe up his neck, savoring the light sweat and cheap soap. One last taste before we stop this for good. Luke’s not some random guy I can shove out of my dorm and block the number of.

He’s my best friend, the guy I’d follow to the ends of the earth if he asked me to. I want him by my side for a long fucking time, but none of that happens if we ruin this.

“Spencer.” Luke whines, arching up into me, and every thought in my head dissipates.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” I grip him tighter, marveling at his lean muscles. He’d kill me if he knew, but I love his small waist. I’ve wanted to hold it forever.

“I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.”

Fuck, that’s such a turn-on. The thought of being his first everything makes me groan. I capture his mouth with mine, rolling our hips together. He tastes like chewing gum and those sour candies he hoards in his gym bag.

I pull away, nosing along his freshly shaven jaw. It’s another one of his quirks; being so uptight about his appearance.

“Let me suck your cock,” I say.

Luke keens, hands scrabbling over my bare shoulders. He nods frantically. Grinning, I reluctantly let go of his waist and slide down his body to kneel on the locker room tiles.

We’ll have to be quick. The rest of the team is gone for the morning and shouldn’t be back until afternoon practice, but someone could wander in looking for forgotten cleats or a lost phone.

Luke’s hard and straining through his athletic shorts, and there’s a small wet spot at the front. I nose along his length through the cloth until I reach the head, and close my lips around the tip. Breathing through the fabric, I can’t help but grin when Luke grips the back of my neck, hips bucking into my face.

“Keep still.” All this stops right now if he impales me in the eye. “Or I’ll leave you standing here alone.”

“I hate you.”

Snorting, I pull away from his cock and pretend to stand up. “Try again.”

“Wait, I didn’t mean it.” He makes a whining noise that goes straight to my head. Both of them. “ Please, Spence. I’ll be good, I promise.”

I reward him with another kiss to his weeping tip through his shorts. Then I tug them down until they pool around his ankles, exposing him in full view.

He’s not wearing underwear, again. I press my forehead into his hip, grinding the heel of my palm against my straining cock. This man will be the fucking death of me.

Luke’s grip tightens on my shoulder, and a string of sweet moans fall from his lips. He’s probably overwhelmed, judging by how loud he’s being, but he keeps his promise. His hips don’t move. The show of obedience makes me feel heady, and I press my tongue against the slit in his tip, fondling his balls roughly.

He gasps. “Spencer, oh my God.”

Urged on by my name on his lips, I swallow the rest of him until my nose presses against dark curls. His cock twitches in my mouth, salty precum dripping from the tip, and I know this won’t last long.

Gripping his hips tighter, I work his cock, using every trick in the book to drag him to the edge of pleasure. He curls over me, knees shaking, and I lift off his length enough to slide down his foreskin and tongue the sensitive head.

Luke trembles under my fingers, body drawn taut, and comes with a strangled, high-pitched moan. I swallow every bit of him, making it good just like I promised, and when he collapses against the lockers I stand up.

Pressing our mouths together, I let him taste himself on my tongue. His groan sends a fresh wave of arousal through me.

Is it always going to feel like this when we kiss? Like nothing else in the world matters except his soft lips and the way he eagerly digs into my mouth like an overexcited puppy.

I can’t get enough of him.

“You’re still hard,” Luke says against my mouth.

“A little bit.”

He tugs down my sweatpants, tentatively reaching for my straining cock. “Let me…” For a second, he seems lost, staring at the dick in his hand like it teleported there, before he tightens his grip and starts tugging.

“ Fuck . Luke—”

He works his way over my cock with as much focus as he does everything, his brow furrowed and tongue poking out of his mouth like when he’s practicing a hard pass or baking something new. It’s endearing.

We’re standing half-naked in the team locker room; my heart shouldn’t be feeling so full it could burst. But it does.

I feel feverish with want, wrung out, and aching. For my best friend. Overcome with need, I push his hand aside and, bracing against his locker, crowd him against my body. Luke looks up at me with wide eyes, the pupils blown out so far, I can barely see the dark brown.

Pressing our cocks together, I wrap a hand around both of us. “This might hurt a little. Tell me if it gets too much.”

Then I roll my hips, pumping my hand in a punishing rhythm. It feels fucking amazing. I was already on edge from sucking him off, and my pleasure skyrockets, thrumming through my veins like the burr of an engine.

Luke wraps his arms around my neck and buries into my shoulder, whimpering a little at the overstimulation. But he takes it eagerly, bucking against me like he has more to give. Even though I know he’s still sensitive, and the sting must be getting to him, he doesn’t stop.

I was right, before. He will be the death of me because he’s fucking perfect. Everything about him is perfect, and I don’t know why we haven’t done this sooner.

My orgasm hits me like a freight train, and I sink my teeth into his neck, bruising it further. Hot ropes of come splash against Luke’s cock, marking him as mine. It’s a fucked-up thought but I can’t take it back.

Luke gasps and goes still, his cock twitching against my hip as a dry orgasm wracks through his body.

All I can think is how utterly fucked I am.

*

The next morning, I wake up feeling like shit.

I can tell it’s gonna be one of those days where I’m on edge, like I could punch anybody who looks at me the wrong way. Usually, I ignore it or go for a swim until it disappears, but this time it sticks to me like a bandage that won’t come off.

The first half of today is free—with the semi-final match in three days, we need to be careful not to pull any important muscles. Silence behind Luke’s door means he’s still asleep. I stumble through my morning routine like a zombie, careful not to wake him up. I don’t want to bother him when I’m like this.

Maybe a jog will clear my head. Grabbing my shit, I tug on an old Harper Harriers jersey, this one white with blue stripes instead of the blue with white lettering we’ve got this year. When I’m ready, I shut the front door behind me and head for the elevator, hoping to work out the strange tension in the pit of my stomach.

This part of Washington is gorgeous, even in the early morning darkness. It’s past dawn and the sky is a hazy blue mixed with the vibrant orange of undiluted squash. The roads are nearly empty, so I shove in my earphones and put on a playlist to drown out my thoughts.

It doesn’t work. Even past the heavy drums of indie rock, my mind races with Luke, Luke, Luke. I haven’t felt this way about him in years.

It’s like our messing around has given my brain permission to reroute him into the ‘single and available’ section. Except he’s straight, I’m the captain of his soccer team, and we’re best friends.

But none of that registers in my fucked-up head. I’ve tried to stop thinking about him, tried to focus on getting with the prettiest girls and the hottest guys. Problem is, the memory of neon-blue lights and large doe eyes widening at my cock hanging out of my trousers kept replaying.

Even when I’m with other people, Luke is a ghost that haunts me. And now that I know the sounds he makes when he’s spilling into my mouth, I don’t want to exorcise him.

My obsession is coming back in full force, and I couldn’t give a shit if I tried.

A car honks somewhere in the distance and I crash back into reality. My legs are aching. Panting, I check my watch and see it’s been almost half an hour of straight jogging. A convenience store glows in front of me like a shining beacon in the low light.

I’ll grab something for Luke, then head to the training center for some recovery stretches. Whatever I’d hoped to accomplish with this jog didn’t fucking work. At least the anger’s washed away, but in its place is a heavy confusion building in the pit of my gut.

The whole apartment smells like coffee and buttercream icing when I get back.

It’s a few hours into the morning, almost afternoon. Kicking off my running shoes, I follow the smell to the kitchen, and can’t help but let out a laugh.

It looks like a bomb has gone off in here, if bombs were made of flour and coffee powder.

Every available surface is covered in cake squares, and a comically large bowl of peanut-colored buttercream sits on the counter by the sink.

Luke stands in the middle of the chaos, one leg on the counter, the other on his bare toes as he reaches for the top shelf of the high cabinets. He’s wearing a soft cable-knit sweater, the hem riding up a little and showing the sliver of skin right above the curve of his ass.

I’m behind him in seconds, pressing my chest against his back and crowding around him. He startles and slips off the counter, stumbling into me.

“What the—could you not sneak up on me like that?”

“I made plenty of noise, dipshit. What are you doing?”

“Baking.” He whirls around in the tight cage of my arms and glances at my bare chest. “You’re not wearing a shirt. Again.”

“Sue me. I showered at the gym and didn’t have a spare.” I grin at the look on his face, dipping low to nose along his cheek. “Is it bothering you?”

He scoffs but wraps his arms around my neck and draws me closer. My stomach flutters. This is the first time I’ve been this close with anyone I’ve already had sex with. Usually, one night is enough. We go our separate ways, I ignore them if I see them around campus and, in a few days, I forget they ever existed.

Sounds shitty, but both consenting parties agree to the arrangement. Sex is sex, not feelings. I don’t do feelings.

But then why does my whole body light up when Luke looks at me like that? Like I'm the only person in the world he wants to be around?

Overwhelmed and determined to bring us back to familiar ground, I capture his lips in a rough kiss. His groan reverberates through my body. It’s easy to lick him open; he’s pliant and eager.

I pull away, letting him catch his breath. His eyes are closed, mouth slightly open and slick with spit. He leans forward as if chasing another kiss but seems to catch himself, eyes fluttering open. Humming, I cup his jaw to keep him close.

“Let me try.”

His hands still their exploration of my back. “You want to bake with me?”

“I want to do a lot of things with you.” I thumb his dark freckles, capturing his heavy gaze. “You’re my best friend, hanging out with you is fun. Plus, your voice does this thing when you’re explaining shit and it’s hot.”

His laugh is like music to my ears. I feel breathless staring at him, like I’ve swam across an Olympic-sized pool.

Maybe I lied earlier. Riling him up is only my second favorite hobby. Making Luke smile, seeing the corners of his eyes crinkle and the sweet lines around his mouth, means more to me than anything.

Luke places me in front of a bowl and shows me how to fold some new batter. We’re making coffee cake squares loaded with protein for the team, and the buttercream is peanut butter-flavored.

“Because I know how you are with protein stuff,” he says simply, like it isn’t a big deal. “You should like this combo, though.”

It’s impossible to stop myself from planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “What would I do without you?”

“Anything for the great Spencer Hall, star captain of the Harper Harriers and gift to soccer.”

His tone is sarcastic, but when I turn back to my batter, he’s rubbing his cheek, a slightly dazed look on his face.

Behind his prickly exterior, Luke’s a massive cinnamon roll. He’s the only guy I’ve let behind my walls, allowed to see who I am when I’m not the star soccer captain or the protective older brother.

“You okay?”

Clearing my throat, I grab the spatula from him and start folding the batter. He doesn’t need to hear my shitty thoughts. I’ve burdened him enough.

“Never better. Is this how you do it?”

Luke purses his lips. “You’re doing it wrong.”

“Fuck you, I’m doing it perfectly fine.”

He lunges for the spatula, but I lean out of the way, laughing at his contrite expression. It’s so cute, I can’t help but wrap an arm around his waist and draw him closer, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Luke lets out an indistinct noise and looks at me with wide eyes. I let go of him, smiling a little.

When we finally get back to baking, we settle into easy banter. There’s something about him that makes me feel calm and soothes the monster rising in my chest. I don’t feel like I have to fight and claw and kick with him.

With Luke, I feel free. Whatever this is, I don’t want it to end.