Seventeen

Nic

"G uess what?"

"What?" I set my phone down beside me on the bed to enjoy the show. The first thing he does when he comes home from school is get naked. Well, he changes into more comfortable clothes, but getting naked is a step in that whole process—and it's one I usually appreciate.

"I said guess!"

"You… oh." I sit up fully, a little more proud of myself than I should be that I remembered. "You took your last final today."

He smiles at me, clearly also surprised that I remembered. "Yup. I am officially done with this semester. We have work tomorrow, and then we go up to San Jose—"

" You go up to San Jose."

He pauses with his shirt half off for a second before quickly ripping it off. "Nic—"

"Cade, I don't want to go. How many times do I have to tell you that?" I'm tired of being around people who make it obvious I'm not wanted there. And I haven't been to their house for the holidays in years. It's just been me and my mom, sometimes Paulina. It would feel weird to spend the day with my dad just because I can't spend it with her. And Tracey just got rid of me .

"You said you didn't want to spend Christmas with our parents, but they won't be there."

I sigh, not bothering to get into this again. I did forget about that, but still. It's weird. And he can lie as much as he wants—I know this whole vacation business is only a thing because I'm in the mix.

"Nic, why don't you want to go with me?"

Truthfully, I do want to go with him. Thinking about what else I could do and who I could spend that day with, I always end up coming back to my mom or Cade—and only one of those is an actual possibility. He's it. All I've got. But I've learned a few too many lessons in life. If something sounds too good to be true, it usually is.

"I have to work. I need to save as much as I can before the spring semester starts." It's not even a lie—not a total lie. I have enough that I could afford to get in a place, but it wouldn't hurt to have more. A squirrel fund to keep me afloat when I no longer have roommates to help lighten the load—when it's up to me alone. So, yeah, if I want to move out of Cade's room, then I'll need more money. Maybe he wouldn't be trying so hard to convince me to go if I told him that, but a part of me doesn't want to see him get excited to be rid of me. Not yet.

"Actually…"

"What?"

He's looking at me with barely veiled caution, sliding his jeans over his hips slowly as he watches my face.

"You're gonna be mad at me."

"I'm always mad at you."

He snorts, kicking his pants off the rest of the way before moving closer to my bed. "I requested time off for you."

"You—how? Is that even allowed?" Pretty sure there are laws about that kind of thing. Plus, I saw the schedule a few days ago. I'm on it.

"I don't know." He shrugs, fidgeting with the edge of my bed as he stands there in his briefs. "I just told him we both needed the time off, and he gave it to us."

"I… I'll tell him my plans changed and that I can work."

"No!" My bed bounces under his weight as he flops down. "I don't want to go alone, Nic."

I didn't even think about that. I don't get Anton and Tracey. He's supposed to be the favorite, so why didn't he get an invite to their fancy destination vacation? And why am I letting it be my problem? "What about Liam?"

"He'll be with his boyfriend this year."

"Cade… you don't want to spend your Christmas with me."

"Clearly, I do!" He stands up again, his dumb muscles tensing with his frustration. "Why else would I ask a million times?"

He has asked a lot, that's true. He's asked so much I'm pretty sure both of us are tired of it. But it's not because he actually wants me to go. He just feels bad for me.

"Whatever. Fuck you. I'll… see what Jax is doing, I guess."

I roll my eyes. He's only saying that to piss me off—I know this, but if anything, I'm more mad that it works. I don't know that guy, but I'm tired of seeing him and Cade together.

"Okay." I'm calling his bluff. He's done his best to convince me that he's barely even friends with Jax, and after everything he's told me, I do believe it. Which means he's full of shit right now.

It's not the reaction he wanted.

"I will."

"Okay." This time, I smile a little—can't help myself. He's just cute sometimes.

"Okay," he parrots me, his cheeks getting hot the longer he takes trying to come up with his next move. "I'm gonna call him. Right now."

"Tell him I said hi."

He grabs his phone off the dresser, and a few taps later, he's actually fucking calling him.

"Hang up." I move a foot to the floor, getting ready to do—something, I don't know.

"No. Hey! Um, no thanks. I just wanted to see if—"

We both stare at his phone where it lands on the ground—having been smacked out of his hand.

"It was Domino's."

"What?"

"I don't actually have Jax's number." He grins like he's proud of himself, and I can do nothing but stand here like an idiot. "So I called Domino's."

"Oh."

He wants to laugh at me but smartly decides not to. "Nic, please come with me."

My temple twitches as I stare at his pleading face. "You're giving me a headache. I don't want to."

He looks pained, like me actually rejecting his pity offer has hurt his feelings. I don't get it—truly do feel the beginnings of a headache.

"I'm not having sex with you anymore unless you go."

He's full of shit. "Fine."

"Fine?"

"You're lying." I shrug.

"No, I'm not. Even if you say yes, I'm not letting you fuck me until we get there."

"You're—"

"I'm not kidding, Nic! No more ass for you."

This time, I'm less inclined to call his bluff. He might be serious. Sex benefits him just as much as me—more than me, probably. He initiates way more than I do, so I don't really see how denying me his ass is a punishment for me alone.

Unless he actually does want me to go. At the diner, he told me that he was stalking me because he wanted to see me, but I'm still not sure that I can believe that. And even if he did mean it, I rejected his kiss just a minute after that—which seems like the kind of thing that would make someone regret pouring their heart out like that. But now this…

It feels risky to agree—feels like I'm potentially going to embarrass myself. But how bad could it be?

Worst-case scenario, I'm not alone for Christmas. Best case…

I swallow back my nerves—along with all the self-doubt that makes it impossible to believe him—and do something for myself. "Okay, Cade." My stomach tightens—whether with excitement or regret, I don't know—and his face lights up, making it so much easier to deal with. "I'll go with you—if…" I take a step closer and put a hand on his hip in a soft touch, reveling in how right it feels when he leans in, his chest against mine. "We fuck right now."

Cade hisses, baring his teeth as he shakes his head at me. "That wasn't the deal, emo boy. No ass for you until—"

I flip us, rearrange our bodies so that I'm able to shove him on the bed closest to us. He lands on his back with a full belly laugh, head thrown back as he props himself up on his elbows.

It has me pausing—standing and staring at him just so I can commit the image to memory. He looks so happy, and every part of me perks up—starts chanting the word mine over and over as it takes credit for the scene before me.

∞∞∞

"D id you bring lube?"

He gives me a side eye that tells me I was stupid to ask such a thing. "Of course."

"And they're not going to be there?" I've asked maybe three or four times just since we got in the car, but I have plans—plans that would play out disastrously if our parents ended up being home.

"They're in Arizona." He has more attitude when he says it this time around, but I have to make sure. He'll understand later. See that it was worth it to humor me.

I hope he thinks it was worth it. I feel like I know him relatively well by now, so I really do think that he will. My palms are a little sweaty—or a lot sweaty—but I'm going for it.

"Tired of the blue balls, huh?"

I don't give the cheeky bastard the satisfaction of a response—he's been way too proud of himself the past few days. I honestly didn't think he had it in him. If anyone else had told me my greedy little cumslut could go a whole week without coming, I'd have laughed in their face—but here we are, both of us experiencing new levels of horny. I really underestimated just how spiteful he could be—a mistake I will never make again.

And I am tired of the blue balls. It's what inspired the pervy idea that I'm beyond excited and nervous for. It's pretty much the only thing keeping my mind off missing my mom too much.

"Are you upset you didn't get to go to Sedona?" I might be if I were him. He's not used to being excluded from things. A tiny part of me is mad at them on his behalf, but most of me is happy with how things worked out—that it's just me and him.

"Nah. If I had a choice—red rocks or having my stepbrother come in my ass—I'd definitely choose the cum in my ass."

I don't know what to say—mostly because I know he's joking and wish he wasn't. I know he said he would choose cum, and that's not anything to feel special about, but it almost sounds like he'd choose me. I can't think of anyone ever choosing me before. Not once, not when it mattered.

But I don't let myself feel too important—he's just looking forward to ditching condoms. He was the one to bring it up. We had a brief and only mildly awkward discussion about STI screenings and PrEP—which he apparently is on—and agreed that we were good to go.

"Are you okay?"

The question catches me off guard, but it's instinct to tell him that I'm fine. He's not the only one who's been asking me that lately. I think he's probably asked the least—and since I spend most of my time with him, I figure that it's a good indicator that there's nothing to worry about. I'm feeling a little down, but I miss my mom, and that's normal. So, I stick with fine.

"Okay." He says it like he doesn't believe me and with the same look my old therapist used to give me when I'd tell her the same thing. But I am fine.

"I'm just tired." I've been feeling tired a lot lately, but it's to be expected. I have anxiety. Nothing major anymore, but I quit taking my pills, and I expected some drawbacks. Feeling anxious after going through a period of being somewhat decently well-adjusted is taking some getting used to. And things are more than manageable when it's just Cade and I.

We have less than an hour to go when I pull over at a rest stop. It's more time than a guy who prefers minimal prep needs, but he doesn't usually stretch himself and I want him to play a part in choosing how this whole thing will play out.

"Why'd you stop? We're almost there."

"You have thirty-two miles to get your ass ready for me."

"What?"

"Finger fuck yourself until you think you can handle me because as soon as we pull into the driveway, I'm going to give you a thirty-second head start, and then I'm coming for you."

"I—are you serious?"

If it weren't for the excited little gleam in his eyes, I'd backtrack, but I know him. I know how to make him feel good. He wants it rough, wants to be taken. Fucked to the point of pain, but only if it's mixed with pleasure. He asks for more every single time I'm inside him, but I hold back. I always give him just enough.

This is a promise for some of that more he craves.

"You've made me wait days, little brother. I'm going to fuck you whether you're ready for me or not." It's not true. I'd never do that, but I keep a straight enough face that he licks his lips before swallowing, liking the idea more than I'd like. I almost regret even saying that, giving him ideas.

He's quick to get out of the car, moving even faster to round the trunk. I pop it for him, and a few seconds later he's getting in the back seat.

"Other side." I want to be able to see his face, watch him as he works himself open for me.

"What if someone sees me?"

"Cade, the first time you choked on my dick, we were in a room filled with people."

"That's—" He purses his lips. "Different. That was different. Those people were doing nasty shit in a dark room. These people—" He motions towards the road with a jerk of his head. "They're not expecting to look over and see a guy with his fingers up his ass."

I laugh at that. Nobody's gonna see that, but I shrug anyway. "Oh well." I'm showing more confidence than I feel, but he's eating it up. Loving the risks involved and playing into it perfectly. It makes me wonder what kinds of people he hooked up with before me. Mostly girls, I'm sure. Did he act like this with them?

I hope not. I like thinking it's me. Being the one to open new doors for him—forcefully shove him over the threshold—makes me feel like I have a claim over this part of him. I may not have all of him, but the part of him that's dying to be fucked and ravaged is all mine.

I can hear him undo his zipper, the faint sounds of him shoving his pants down enough to give himself the room he needs. I can see him in the mirror, looking lost as he eyes his lap.

"Spread your legs, Cade. Put a foot on the center console."

He blows out a breath, a charming mix of nerves and relief on his face as he pulls his pants down more so he can do as I said. The snick of a cap sounds while I watch the road, and a quiet " Shit " follows. "I got a little lube on the floorboard. Or—it might be a lot." He gives me an apologetic grin and shrugs. "But you know, it could be worse. It could be nachos. My car still smells like fucking cheese." He tries to chuckle, but it comes out awkwardly.

"Cade, put a finger up your ass and shut up." The way his brows fall and settle in a little glare makes me smile. He's nervous, but it can't be any worse than when I prep him. Nine times out of ten, he rushes me and demands that I start with two fingers so he feels the stretch the way he likes. "I believe in you," I tease.

The next view I get in the rearview mirror is his eyes closed in a subtle cringe, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. I have to balance between watching his face and the traffic, but I get to see it when his mouth opens in a soft gasp. If it were my fingers, he'd be a lot louder. He'd already be working his hips against my prodding, eager for me to hit that spot inside him.

"Tell me how it feels."

His eyes open, cheeks painted a pretty shade of pink as he takes a breath. "Um…" His voice wavers, a sweet hint of those nerves that makes me wish I was back there to help him. "It's better when you do it." But a second later he's tilting his head back, still not quite moaning for me but definitely enjoying it. I have to adjust in my seat to try and alleviate the pressure on my growing erection. "Nic, I—you won't stop, right? You—" The word catches on the first audible sound of pleasure—a delicate groan that I feel in my groin. "I want you to fuck me, even if I say no."

This isn't some big surprise. "You want me to force my cock into you, make you take it." It wasn't a question, but he nods anyway. I have to push the heel of my palm into my groin to give myself some relief. "That's what I had planned—and you have a safeword."

"Ugh. Don't ruin it."

I laugh. He still very much resents me giving him one. It breaks the fourth wall of these little games we play to remind him that his no's don't mean anything, but that's too bad. I'll hurt him as much as he wants, but I won't do anything to push his boundaries.

Nearly twenty minutes of playing with himself has his breathing picking up, louder than the radio as he pants behind me. He's having too much fun, making it real fucking difficult to sit still. My dick is hard enough that it hurts. I may be speeding, but it's a necessity at this point.

I have to step hard on the brakes when I get boxed in, making him gasp as he's forced forward in his seat.

"Fuck, Nic. Don't do that."

"You need to stop." He's had enough time, and I'm not sure I can drive like this for much longer. I might end up just pulling over on the side of the road to fuck him now. "We're almost there," I say it for myself, a reminder that my suffering is nearly over .