Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

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I was so unbelievably not ready for this.

Now, I'd been to gay bars before, mostly with Miller. I'd been hit on before while I stood at the bar and pretended not to watch him get it on with some random lucky asshole on the dance floor.

I had no problem being in queer spaces.

What I had a huge problem with was wearing nothing but swimwear with a near-naked Miller in a room full of testosterone and pheromones, with music pumping and Miller's hand on my ass. All while some barely dressed men stared at us while others were making out and grinding all over each other, and...

Yeah.

That's what my problem was.

I'd woken up with a raging hard-on, having dreamed all night of having Miller underneath me, naked and writhing, taking my cock over and over. And, so help me god, rubbing one out in the shower this morning did little to help my situation.

Flashbacks of kissing him, how he'd taken my tongue, how he'd tasted, kept flashing through my mind. When he'd suggested we hit the strip, it'd been so much better than going back to our suite where I'd no doubt inevitably make things more awkward between us.

I didn't want it to be awkward.

I just wasn't sure how to deal with this.

How to deal with being suddenly attracted to my best friend.

How this could possibly ruin the best thing in my life.

And I thought he'd been exaggerating about the gay pool party... until we walked in.

Fashionably late, of course. We walked in and heads turned, whispers and nods in our direction... Hell, Miller wasn't exaggerating at all.

But one drink down and Miller had his shirt off, tucking it into the back of my shorts. I didn't even get to ask why because his shorts followed soon after, and he was happily parading around in a very small black Speedo.

His fine body, lean and muscular in all the right places, glinted like he'd moisturized... Christ, he'd moisturized.

A few men cheered and he responded by dancing, spinning in a circle, but quickly pulling me close.

My hand went to his lower back, fingers skimming the smooth fabric of his Speedo.

"You okay?" he asked, his lips near my ear.

"You weren't kidding about fresh meat," I mumbled.

He threw his head back and laughed.

We'd somehow made our way toward the pool, which had blow-up unicorns and beach balls and bronzed men on display. I was pretty sure one couple was having sex in the pool...

Oh god, they were, for real.

This was insane.

"Is it always like this?"

He shrugged and continued to dance. "This is Vegas, baby." Then he slid his hands to my hips and we danced.

Well, he danced with his arms up, and I tried really hard not to look down at his junk while he was facing me, or at his ass when he turned around.

He had a really great ass though.

"Oh," Miller said. "Sorry. Taken."

I stopped ogling his ass to notice a man in front of Miller, his hand on Miller's waist. Before I knew what I was even doing, I slid my arm around Miller and pulled him behind me and glared at the douchebag and his filthy hand. "He said he's taken," I growled.

The man put his hands up with a sly smirk and danced his way back into the crowd. Miller hummed in my ear. "Fuck, Brody, that was hot."

I was irrationally angry, stupidly protective, and now unsurprisingly more confused.

I met his gaze, surprised by the heat I saw in his eyes.

What I wanted to do was take his face in my hands and kiss him so he, and the other men, knew damn well who he belonged to.

But I couldn't.

So I put my fingers to his chin and lifted his face. "You belong to me."

Yep.

I said that.

Out loud.

To his face.

For fuck's sake.

And the funny thing about it? I meant every word.

"I always have," he whispered, eyes clear and as honest as I'd ever seen them. Then he took my hand. "God, I need a drink."

So we drank.

Bright-colored vodkas that were full of sugar and carbs that would probably kill me tomorrow, but right then, I'd have drunk anything.

Miller danced and laughed, his blue drink raised high as he swayed.

Men wanted him.

They eyed him from head to foot, and I saw them size up their chances until they saw me. He wasn't kidding when he said to keep my hand on him, and after a few orange and pink drinks, I danced with him so they'd know he was mine.

Which he wasn't. Not technically, but this weekend he was.

It helped that I glared at some of them until they backed the fuck up.

I was shirtless, my small black swim shorts riding high on my thighs as Miller danced against me.

I was going to have a raging hard-on at this rate, and my drunk ass couldn't bring himself to care.

If Miller got any closer, he'd definitely feel it.

I slid my hand to his hip and held him half an inch short of contact. What I wanted to do was hold his hips and grind hard against him, but at least I still had the sense not to.

He wiggled a little, testing my resolve.

"Probably not a good idea," I murmured behind his ear.

He turned his head. "What happens in Vegas..."

Christ.

That wasn't helping.

Drunk and flirty dirty-dancing Miller wasn't helping at all.

Because I didn't want this to stay in Vegas.

I wasn't sure I could.

How could I go back to our real lives and pretend none of this had happened? That I hadn't realized this about myself. That I was attracted to my best friend. That I wanted us to be more than friends.

Would I risk it all for a chance?

Do it, Brody. Do it now or you never will.

And I was drunk enough to think what the voice in my head said was a good idea.

What did he say before? Not to kiss his neck because it was his weak spot?

So what did I do?

I held his hips and as I brought his ass into contact with my dick, I kissed his neck. Open lips and sucking.

He froze for a split second before he arched his back, melting into me, then faster than I could stop him, he turned in my arms.

Well, we were certainly touching now.

From chest to thighs, his arms around my lower back, holding me in place. He could definitely feel my hard-on, and I could feel his interest growing. God, it feels so good. His eyes lasered in on mine, burning into me. "Brody," he murmured.

"I don't know what it means," I said, hoping no one else could hear. Hell, I didn't even know if he could hear me. I leaned in and whispered in his ear. "But I don't wanna fight it anymore."

He crushed his mouth to mine, kissing me deep, tongues tangling, and both our cocks jerked, sandwiched between us.

Yeah. I was done fighting this. Whatever it was. I was drunk enough to call this battle lost.

I didn't want to fight it. If I could have him in my arms like this, pressed tight against me with his tongue in my mouth, then yeah, I'd take the risk.

Miller's arms went around my neck as we kissed, right there in front of a few hundred strangers.

I didn't care. None of them mattered.

He mattered.

He was all that mattered.

I broke the kiss. "We need to leave," I said, breathless.

Before I embarrassed us in front of everyone. Even though I got the impression that this crowd wouldn't mind, I didn't want my first time doing anything with Miller to be in public.

"Yes, we do," he said, taking my hand and pulling me toward the door. We found the elevator, not even bothering to put shirts on, or even shorts, in Miller's case.

The elevator had people in it, which was probably a good thing. It took every ounce of self-control not to look down. To see if he was still sporting wood.

I didn't have to look at mine to know.

I kind of held my shirt in front of me so it wasn't obvious, which Miller found amusing.

"It's not funny," I whispered just as the doors opened on our floor.

We'd barely got inside our room before he pounced on me, taking my face in his hands and kissing me, pulling me so I pinned him against the wall.

Holy fuck, this felt so good.

Feeling how turned on he was just somehow made it better.

I pushed my hips hard against his and he lifted one leg, which I took, gripping his ass and grinding...

Slow down, Brody. Fuck, this'll be over far too soon.

I broke the kiss, trailing my mouth down his neck. "Should we talk about this?" I panted.

He craned his neck, giving me more room, and he fisted my hair. "Let me have this," he said, and I wasn't thinking clearly enough to follow. Then he jumped up, hooking his other leg around me so all I could feel was him. "Talk later."

Well, that I understood.

But now I had him pinned to the wall and his erection was rubbing against mine. I needed my hands to feel, to grip, to touch every inch of him, but I was holding him...

So I lifted him and carried him to the bed. He laughed as we hit the mattress, but he soon guided our mouths back together, grinding and rolling his hips slowly, dragging every ounce of pleasure out of each move.

I realized then, like a bucket of cold water, that I didn't know what to do next.

"I don't know what to do," I mumbled, still kissing him. "Teach me."

He groaned a sound so guttural it damn near lit a fuse inside me. And then he slid his hand between us, down my shorts, and gripped me.

Uh, yeah. There was no stopping now.

"Fuck," I bit out.

"Touch me," he whispered.

I did it without thinking, without getting lost in my head, that this was a man. Miller, no less. I simply pulled at his Speedo until I freed his erection, and... holy shit.

Could another guy's dick be pretty? Should it turn me on to see it? To hold it?

I wrapped my fingers around him and he arched his back, mouth open, and suddenly what he was doing to me wasn't anywhere near as important as what I was doing to him.

I technically had no experience in pleasuring another man, but I knew what I liked, so I went with that.

Long strokes, slow, with a twist over the slick head, over and over, and he was pulling me, squeezing the head of my cock, pumping the shaft, and then his fingers trailed down to my balls...

And I couldn't hold my orgasm back. I came, my cock spilling onto his stomach at the same time he arched with a cry, pulsed in my hand, his come mixing with mine.

Aftershocks ripped through me, intense and all-consuming, before I collapsed on top of him.

I didn't care that I'd just smeared our come between us.

In fact, I hoped I did.

I liked it.

Miller let his legs fall flat with a groan. He was panting, so sexy. "Damn."

"Is it always that hot?" I asked, my brain still too mushy to stop stupid words from spilling out. "Think I came in record time."

He laughed, rolling us onto our sides, but he was quick to keep hold of me, finishing with a sigh. "We'll need to shower."

"Dunno. I was just thinking how much I like the mix of our come on our skin."

He froze and pulled back. "Brody?"

"Welcome to the shocked and confused club," I said. "Membership's free."

His expression softened; his hand found the side of my face. "Confused and shocked, huh?"

"But not sorry." I blinked, slower than I'd have liked. "God. Orgasm and alcohol mean sleep. Talk later, 'kay?" I closed my eyes and pulled him in close, the smear between us squishing a little. I still didn't care. "As long as you're not going anywhere."

Did I say that out loud?

Pretty sure I did.

He snorted. "Well, I can't. considering we're now glued together."

"We're conjoined twins . . . come-joined twins."

He tried not to laugh. "Your pillow talk is terrible."

"Mm, funny," I said, too far gone to even open my eyes, let alone think. "Sleep."

I woke up to a dry, crusty feeling on my stomach, and as if that wasn't gross enough when I opened my eyes, those pink and orange drinks came back to haunt me. "Ow."

"You shouldn't let jizz dry on your skin," Miller murmured. "It gets itchy and can cause skin irritations. First rule of sex with a man... Actually, it's probably not the first rule."

I rubbed my forehead. "No, my head hurts. What was in those cocktails?"

"Rocket fuel. Also known as the cheapest vodka on the market."

"Feels like it."

"You okay?" His eyes met mine for the briefest moment before he looked away. He wasn't asking if I was feeling okay. He was asking if I was okay with what had happened.

I sat up and took his hand, threading our fingers. "I don't regret it, if that's what you're asking. I have... concerns."

Now he looked offended. "About? If you're worried about my sexual health?—"

I scoffed. "No. Not about that. I mean, we probably should discuss it at some point, but... my concern is about us."

He frowned at our hands. "What about us?"

"I don't want things to change between us. I mean, I do. I want everything to change, but not you and me. Does that make sense?"

"Not at all."

I sighed and winced and groaned, all at the same time. "My head hurts and I'm hungry. Should we order something? Pizza? I feel like pizza. Then we can talk."

He tried to smile. "Is it the ‘it's not you, it's me' talk? Because if it is, I think we can save ourselves the trouble and just skip it. Pretty sure I won't survive that. And I know this is all new for you, so if you'd rather just?—"

"What? No, no. Can you let me talk?"

He took his hand away. "Sorry."

I snatched his hand right back. "Stop it. Look at me, Miller." I waited until his eyes met mine. "Yes, this is new to me. But you're not. There's no one on the planet who knows me like you do."

Right then, my stomach growled, and he laughed. "Pepperoni with peppers?"

I smiled at him. "See? You know me. And the way you pull my hair when you kiss me..." I shook my head slowly. "Damn. How did you know to do that to me?"

That earned me a smile. "I didn't."

"Well, it's a fucking thing."

He sighed and studied my eyes for a long moment, searching for the truth, no doubt. I hoped he'd see the sincerity.

"Miller, please. Don't shut me out. Let's talk about this. We can put everything on the table and see where we land. I don't know what it means, but I want to find out."

His lips twisted in a tormented smile. "I'll order us that pizza."