Chapter Eight

Ethan

ETHAN'S EYES FLEW open as Justin flipped on the lamp and sat on the side of Ethan's bed. Ethan scooted over, and Justin shifted, leaning against Ethan's thigh, and scrubbed his face with his hands. He lowered them, turned and looked at Ethan, and then down at the floor as he cracked his knuckles one by one.

"This is a bad idea," Justin said quietly.

"But here you are," Ethan whispered, almost too afraid to speak any louder. "And you want to be here, or you wouldn't be. You crossed the room."

Justin nodded slowly and then swallowed hard.

"You should be out celebrating at some party, but instead, you're here with me, week after week," Ethan said slowly.

"Pretty much," Justin said in the same careful cadence. Justin swallowed hard for a second time. "I want to know… What it is… Why is it every time I see you or I'm around you, I'm all…nervous and confused. Excited and"—he lowered his voice—"hard."

Ethan's eyes widened at such an admission, but he already knew what he was about to do. Not only for Justin but for himself. He'd been the prince of restraint throughout the weeks of their strange friendship, but Justin had crossed the room, coming to him. Justin was sitting on his bed, searching for answers.

"I see." Ethan sat up slowly as he spoke as if approaching something that might attack, but he shifted behind Justin and eased his legs to either side of his. "You want to know an answer to the ‘Ethan question,'" he whispered as Justin began to breathe harder.

"I don't want to fuck up this thing we have," Justin said.

Ethan couldn't believe he was doing this but slid his hands around the waistband of Justin's boxers and whispered close to Justin's ear, "Is it just me, or in general?"

Justin hadn't tensed at his touch. "Just you." But his chest was heaving as he tracked where Ethan's hand had slid up to his stomach and grazed down the line of trimmed hair, then dipped beneath the waistband of his boxers.

"Fuck." Justin panted as Ethan's hand found him, and his body began to shake against Ethan's chest.

"You want to know what it would feel like between us, between just you and me." Ethan breathed across his ear. Goosebumps sprang across Justin's neck as he shuddered, and Ethan ran his thumb over the surprising slickness already there. Slowly, he wrapped his fingers around Justin's girth and took a solid hold of him.

Justin groaned as his head fell back on Ethan's shoulder. "Yes, but I would never use you, Ethan. You should stop."

"Oh, and don't I already know that about you," Ethan confessed, not stopping. There had been no heat behind those words. "If anything, I feel like I'm taking advantage of you."

"You aren't." It seemed as if Justin could barely get the words out, and he moaned.

Ethan pumped his hand as Justin held on to Ethan's thighs like his death grip on the football.

Ethan had started slowly, but Justin's reactions made it clear this wasn't lasting long.

"There you go," Ethan breathed out, stroking his hand in earnest now. "Let all that shit in your head leave and just get your answer. One time. We do this one time, and we forget it."

Justin panted, "Does this hurt you?"

"No. And you aren't using me. I want this. I want this so much."

Justin's fingers dug into Ethan's thighs as his hips pushed into Ethan's fist, matching the steady attention of Ethan's hand.

"God, that's it; just let yourself go," Ethan panted as he looked down the length of Justin's body, fascinated by what he was doing to him. Ethan reached his other hand around and pushed away the boxer fabric, freeing the restriction. Ethan watched as he worked Justin over for only a moment before returning his mouth to Justin's ear. His free hand moved behind Justin to push down his own waistband and free himself. He licked, teased with a suck, and breathed against Justin's ear as Justin gripped Ethan's thighs even tighter. Ethan would have bruises, but he could care less at the moment.

"Yes," Ethan hissed over Justin's cheek. "Do you feel what I'm doing behind you? It's the same for me."

Justin made a desperate noise. He cursed as his body tensed, and Ethan stroked him through his fast release. He slowed his hand on himself behind Justin. Justin's fingers eased their death grip, and Ethan leaned back across his bed, away from Justin—stretched out flat to finish himself off. Justin turned to him.

"Yeah, you watch me," Ethan groaned as Justin stared. Ethan jerked off, eyes locked on Justin, and streaked his stomach for the only guy he'd hoped might one day be staring at him like that.

Justin sat there, breathing hard, with a matching mess. When they'd both calmed, he stood and headed for the bathroom.

"I can't believe that just happened," Justin said.

"You wanted that to happen."

"Well, yeah , but no." Justin returned and tossed Ethan a hand towel. "That's not why I came across the room." He shook his head and laughed. " Fuck , I was just hoping to get the nerve up to kiss you."

Ethan's eyes widened, but he couldn't fight a grin and then his own belt of laughter. "Oh, shit," he sputtered. "I fucked that up." He laughed again, "Big time."

Ethan sobered, taking in Justin's look and serious expression. "Then kiss me if that's what you want to know."

Justin just sat there, and it looked as if he was waging an internal war with himself. He was quiet but nodded slightly. "I got your essay in freshman composition."

"And I got yours."

"Yeah. It was dumb—about football."

"Ah, it makes more sense now. So, you got a little peek inside my soul." Ethan hummed, nodding to himself and remembering some of what he'd written in the essay.

"Was it all true?" Justin asked.

"Yes, that was the assignment."

"I made a copy of it."

Ethan smiled, intrigued by the admission. "And?"

Justin shrugged, looking bemused. "I just did. I wanted it to be like what you wrote about."

Ethan stopped, realizing. "Aw, and I spoiled the moment."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." Justin rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably and shook his head over what they'd just done. He got serious again. "I would never ask you to keep this hidden. That's why we can't."

"But you want to," Ethan said with a sigh.

"I want to kiss you like that essay," Justin admitted, appearing embarrassed as he scrubbed his face. "That's so selfish."

"You want to kiss me like the essay," Ethan repeated, recalling more now about what he'd written.

"More than anything."

It was a long moment before Ethan spoke again. "Friends," he finally said. "I think that's our only path. I'm still fucked up, and then there's you and football. Of all people, I do understand the complexities there. Trust me, I'm the gay son of a football coach. I get it." Ethan waved a finger between them. "This…is impossible. Look, we know there is something here, but we can't, Justin."

Justin nodded his agreement. "I know. I'm not going to kiss you, Ethan."

"I know."

And that's how they left it. How they were. Two close, if not best, friends, with Ethan going to Justin's football games, Justin showing up for Ethan's cross-country meets, Justin watching Ethan play amateur beer-league hockey, and Ethan dragging Justin home for a quick Thanksgiving break, his mother's home cooking, and more time with Ethan's family.