4

I groan for what feels like the fifth time in as many minutes, wiping my damp forehead with my discarded tee shirt.

Despite what the weather app said earlier this week, our motel room is humid and hot. The rickety AC unit outside the window does nothing to help, only circulating the muggy air. It's so bad that we've stripped down to only our boxers.

It doesn't help that my hangover is killing me. I can barely think through the steady pounding in my head. Even the carpet under my bare legs feels abrasive.

I woke up this morning with a headache and a dry mouth, Milo's arm slung over my waist again. This time I slipped out easily, took a quick shower and got dressed before he woke up.

An itch has settled under my skin. I couldn't help sneaking glances at him all morning, wondering if he regretted our kiss. I should regret it. It was stupid and could have ruined everything.

"Fuck, it's too hot," I say from my position on the floor, leaning against the bed.

Milo pays no attention to me, engrossed in his stretching routine. He moves through the poses fluidly, muscles sifting under acres of smooth skin.

His bare chest is distracting. Like this, I can trace the angle of his hips until the sharp bones dip into the waistband of his boxers. He grunts with each movement, breathing evenly until his abs ripple with exertion.

The front of my boxers is too tight, my cock straining against the fabric. I cross my legs, trying to focus on anything else.

Milo doesn't look at me when he speaks, eyebrows pinching in focus as he bends into an upside-down ‘V'.

"You need to relax. Maybe you should stretch with me, it'll clear your mind."

"I'm perfectly calm."

He laughs, shaking his head. "No, you're not. I can hear you breathing from here."

"Fuck off. You didn't seem to mind my breathing last night."

Milo's steady balance falters and he sinks into a crouch, shooting me an annoyed look. Hot satisfaction rips through me.

"Don't," he warns.

"You started it. You've been groaning for hours; I can hardly hear myself think."

"It's not my fault you're horny."

The tension we've been carefully tiptoeing around snaps. Instead of answering, I fling myself at him. We crash to the floor in a tangle of limbs, thrashing against each other. One of his elbows digs into my side and I grab his hair, yanking his head back.

He overpowers me easily, circling my wrists with both hands and pinning them to the floor.

I can't remember the last time we wrestled. Sometime during high school gym class. Back then, he won just as easily, using his larger frame to his advantage.

Milo swings a leg over my hips, thighs bracketing mine. He's careful not to rest all his weight on me. We really are different. Where he's tall and chiseled with lean muscle, I'm so scrawny you could count my ribs if you tried.

"Just admit you're as horny as I am," I say, panting.

He tilts his head. "Fine. I want to kiss you until you make those little noises again. Is that what you want to hear?"

I hiss, my hips bucking against his ass. "Yes."

The words light me up from the inside, and this time I don't have the convenient excuse of alcohol to back my actions. This is all us.

"Look at you." Milo's hand dips, thumbing my waistband. "You want this."

So much. There's a wet spot on the front of my boxers where the tip of my cock presses against the fabric. Milo rubs at the patch, swiping a thumb over the clothed head and I gasp, back arching.

With his other hand, he tilts my chin up. "Can I kiss you?"

"Fuck, yes."

The slide of his lips over mine is almost addicting. I've never been good at regulating myself when it comes to him. He licks into my mouth greedily, like he's searching for something, and it's all I can do to grip his shoulders and hold.

I don't know how to act in bed—I haven't gotten this far with anyone. But Milo is gentle, guiding me onto the mattress and kissing me until I can't remember what I was worrying about. His erection pokes through the slit of his boxers, slick and throbbing. It's the hottest thing I've ever seen.

He pulls away and noses the underside of my jaw, pressing faint kisses against my skin. Gripping his forearms, I tug him down until he collapses against me. The movement presses our cocks together and I keen at the feeling. It's intoxicating.

Or maybe that's because it's Milo.

"Good?" he says.

"It will be if you stop stalling."

Milo nips my ear, grinning, then tugs on the waistband of my boxers. "These need to go."

We undress quickly and I hiss as air hits the overheated skin of my cock. Milo is there instantly, grinding his hips against mine. I clutch his shoulder, moving instinctively, chasing the pleasure pooling in my stomach.

He holds me like I'm something precious, staring at me with an emotion in his eyes I'm too wired to parse.

Groaning, he buries his face into my neck. "I need to touch you."

"Okay." I'm shaking, so amped up with anticipation it makes me giddy. "I've never done this before. With another person, I mean."

"I'll make it good, promise. Anything you want."

I can't stop the whine that falls from my lips. "Just touch me, please."

"Fuck, Cal. Wait, let me—"

The bed shifts and creaks as he clambers off and searches through his backpack.

"Bingo," he says, holding up a small bottle of lube.

I frown. "Expecting to bang someone when you get home?"

"Something like that."

He settles over me again and pours some lube into his palm before tossing the bottle to one side.

All thoughts of jealousy are swept away when he wraps a hand around both of our cocks. Pleasure sparks through me and I clamp my legs around his hips, back arching off the bed. This is ten times better than my hand.

"You feel—fuck—you feel so good," I say through gritted teeth. "So big."

"Yeah?"

Yeah. He would split me in half. The slide of both of us in and out of his fist sends another shock of arousal through me. I don't realize I'm whimpering until Milo shushes me quietly, latching onto my mouth and swallowing the sound with a flick of his tongue. It feels like I'm on fire.

I throw my head against the pillow. "God, I'm close."

My breath catches in my throat, and I wrap my hand around his, urging him to go faster. Soft groans fall from Milo's lips, and he complies, flicking a thumb over the head of my cock.

"Let go, baby," he says. "That's it. Come for me."

I crescendo first, bucking wildly into his fist. He latches onto my neck, straight white teeth nibbling on my skin, hot tongue laving over the bite. It's enough to push me over the edge.

My body tenses with my release and I bury my face into my arm, trying to muffle the noises spilling from me. Milo coaxes me through it, one hand cupping my balls as the other strokes the ridge on the underside of my cock, until all I can see are stars.

I come with a gasp, spurting into his hand, and collapse against the sheets. Everything is hot, from the stuffy room to the warmth of his body over mine.

When I can finally breathe again, I pat the space beside me. "Come here."

Milo curls against my side and I push his hand off his cock, replacing it with my own.

"Is this okay?" I say. A pleased little thrill settles in my chest when he hisses, nodding emphatically.

"Just like that. You're a natural."

"It's almost like I have a dick."

He laughs brightly but the sound chokes off into a low groan when I tighten my grip, copying what he did to me earlier. Faster, swiping the head with my thumb, a little twist near the top until he's panting so loud it's all I can hear.

Milo fucks my hand like a toy, chasing his own pleasure. Licking my lips, I coax him through his orgasm, watching him come with his head thrown back in ecstasy. He looks beautiful. Come splatters my stomach, staining my pubes.

Curious, I dip my fingers into the mess, spreading it over my chest. It's like a brand, a claim that I'm his and he's mine.

Milo pulls me close. "We need a shower."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Don't pretend you don't like it."

I flick his forehead, grinning. The ease between us is back, settling around me like a familiar blanket. Milo presses a kiss to my cheek and gets up, heading for the bathroom. He comes back with a few tissues and cleans us up before flopping onto the bed and wrapping his arms around me.

I hum against his chest, inhaling cherries and sweat and sex.

Lips brush under my ear. "Good?"

"Very good."

I don't let myself think too much about the end of our stay, looming over the horizon.

*

We stop by the diner for a bite to eat and, for the first time in a while, the nagging voice in my head is quiet.

Milo seems different, lounging in his seat with his legs tangled in mine under the table. Every so often our eyes catch and his sunlit smile lights up his face. I mentally snap a picture each time and tuck it into the overflowing boxes in my mind.

It should concern me how much my life revolves around him, but I can't bring myself to care. As long as we keep this purely friendly and leave emotions out of it, it'll be fine. It has to be.

Greta is the one who suggests heading down to the lake and gives us directions. The fact that we didn't bring swim trunks doesn't deter Milo, who practically drags me over.

The lake is a large circle of blue-green water surrounded half by a grassy clearing and half by a thick patch of trees. A small wooden pier, nothing more than warped pieces of wood hammered together, juts a few feet into the water.

I'm lying on the grassy bank, squinting up at the clear sky and trying not to explode. My shirt is pushed up, exposing my chest, and a thumb swipes over my nipple. I whine, long and low, and buck against Milo's face. I'm so hard I could burst.

"We shouldn't be doing this," I say, biting my lip.

"You worry too much. Relax and enjoy the show."

He tugs down my shorts and boxers in one swift movement, rubbing his nose against my hip, neglecting my bare cock. My brain feels foggy, full of only him.

I squeeze my eyes shut, overwhelmed. "But what if someone sees?"

We're sprawled out in plain view of anyone who walks down the trail. From the way Milo hovers over my crotch, he doesn't seem to care.

"Let me make you feel good," he says.

I hesitate for only a second before nodding frantically, the need almost overpowering. "Please."

Milo undoes me easily. The feeling of his tight, hot mouth swallowing me whole is heaven, better than anything I've ever experienced. He suckles the head of my cock, dipping his tongue between the slit. Moans spill from my lips, interspersed with too many curse words to count.

He holds me like we've done this a thousand times before, like I'm something worth not letting go of. I fall apart a few seconds later, gripping the overgrown grass underneath me.

Milo crawls up my body and presses his mouth to mine. Groaning, I pull him closer, deepening the kiss. It tastes like salt—strange and unfamiliar, but not bad.

"Your turn."

I push at him until he's the one lying on the ground and unzip his baggy jeans, sticking my hand down his underwear and pulling out his cock. Kneeling between his legs, I stare at it for a moment, feeling the heavy weight of it in my palm.

"You don't have to—"

"Shut up. I want to."

I'm not quite ready to put the whole thing in my mouth. Instead, I lick the tip experimentally.

"Oh, God." Milo groans, hips bucking slightly. "That's it, baby. More of that."

The praise spurs me on. Wrapping my mouth around the head, I slowly bring him off with my hands, dipping low to tease his balls. Maybe one day I can go further.

It doesn't take long. He must have been on-edge already. I pull off when he comes, studying the way his face screws up in ecstasy, searing the details into my mind. I want to keep him like this, teetering on the brink of euphoria forever.

After we've cleaned up the best we can and put on our clothes, I lean back against Milo's chest, sighing. He tightens his hold around my waist, nosing the underside of my jaw.

I tilt my head to the side to give him better access. "What's your obsession with my neck?"

"I have an obsession with every part of you."

A warm tongue licks a long stripe from my neck to my ear and I gasp, hoping he can't feel the way my pulse jumps. Relax, Callum. It's just a phrase, nothing more. It can't be anything more.

The heat from earlier has died down to more manageable temperatures. Milo wears a faded Silica Gel tee shirt with the sleeves cut off, a present I got him for his eighteenth birthday. It's worn and faded from years of use, but he looks unreasonably good in it.

Tracing over the flock of birds circling his wrist, I press my fingers deeper into his skin. Like I could meld us together if I tried hard enough. Tonight, I'll stop being such a coward and give him the necklace. He deserves something nice.

"Mom still hates them," Milo says, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek.

"The tattoos?"

"Yeah. She says I look like a gang member."

"You couldn't hurt a fly if you wanted to."

He laughs. "Thanks, man."

I trail over the sleeve, stroking the delicate ink. "Why'd you stop getting them?"

"They kept me grounded when all I wanted to do was run away. I guess I don't need that anymore. This one"—he points to the birds—"reminds me that I'm free to be myself. Nobody can take that away."

A familiar guilt blankets me. "I tried to do that."

"No, you didn't." He squeezes me tightly. "Kids are shitty sometimes. It doesn't matter, because you came around. You've already apologized, baby. Don't worry about it."

"Still. I'm sorry anyway."

Milo kisses my cheek, and when he speaks again his tone is lighter. "We should do this more often."

"Sleeping at motels?"

"Taking vacations together. I've missed this. I've missed you."

Twisting around, I open my mouth to tease him when I catch the expression on his face. There's a distant look in his eye.

The feeling from before, the doubt churning in my stomach, returns with full force. I clear my throat and pull away, trying to slip out of his hold.

"Where are you going?"

I shrug, licking my lips. It's like what he said by the pool. Sex is easy. What we've been doing for the past few days is easy. Too easy.

It's crazy how we've upended years of platonic intimacy, how natural it feels to kiss him. Just touching him sends me spiraling. But I've indulged in these feelings for too long. This can't last.

Panicking, I tug my limbs from his, stumbling to my feet. Milo follows my lead, stepping closer and invading my space until I tilt my head up to look at him. He reaches for me carefully, tracing a hand from my elbow to my wrist. The touch lingers, warmer than the brightest sun rays.

"We're still friends, right?" Tell me this won't change anything.

Milo looks at me like I've grown another head. "Of course we're still friends, Cal, where's this coming from?"

"Okay." I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. "Enough sitting around, it's spring break. Let's go swimming."

The look on his face sends me back five years, reminds me of cheap alcohol and the faint smell of weed. A wet tongue licking into my mouth, short brown hair between my fingers.

I've been here before. I know how the story goes, and it isn't pretty.

Milo is silent for a moment before he shrugs, releasing my hand. Instantly, I miss the warmth of him.

"Swimming it is," he says, flashing a breezy smile. "But if a fish touches my dick, I'm drowning you."

My answering laugh is weak. Fake. It leaves a residue, and I can't help but feel like I'm teetering on the precipice of something terrible.