Don’t You Dare

“I figured it out,” I say the next week when we’re both lying across my bed.

Glancing up to where Keene’s sprawled across the mattress beside me, I find myself smiling because of his presence alone. And it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he’s shirtless with his textbook laid out in front of him, attempting to study for his history class.

We’ve taken up studying together a lot more recently, seeing as that’s pretty much the only time we can be together with his season in full swing now. And yeah, we do study…in between the hand jobs, blowjobs, and occasional prostate massages, at least. But he made it clear that we’re not messing around tonight until he’s ready for this test, and like the good best friend and sex partner I am, I’ve listened.

I even put a pillow wall between the two of us, as if that’s enough to keep me from ripping what’s left of his clothes off and devouring him like a man starved.

With this sex-ban in place for the evening, I’m also meant to be working on my studio project. It’s a productive way to distract myself from the delectable specimen sitting beside me—though it’s nearly impossible these days. So my lack of focus has me creating a list on my phone of all the places we’re going to visit on our annual road trip this summer, rather than drafting floor plans on my laptop.

“I don’t know how you’re figuring much of anything out when you’re not actually working,” he points out. His gaze flicks up to mine, brown eyes piercing me with irritation. “You’re a really shitty homework partner, and that’s coming from the most easily distracted person around.”

I smirk and flick at the brim of the hat resting backward on his head. “My project lasts an entire semester. Your test is tomorrow. I think I can slack off for one night.”

He adjusts his hat back into place and glares some more, though this one is not nearly as effective. “Yeah, but how can I stay on task when you’re sitting there having a grand time doing whatever it is you’re doing. Not working, clearly. It just makes me want to be doing anything else but this,” he complains, motioning to his textbook.

I can’t help but laugh. Maybe our moms weren’t far off with this codependency thing after all.

“Well, then how about a teeny, little brain break?” I ask.

I don’t wait for an answer, pushing through the barrier of pillows and flopping down on my stomach. My skin heats as I settle in beside him, noting every point of connection between our bodies before holding my phone out to him.

“What do you think about doing another National Park road trip?”

“Which ones?” he asks, taking the device from me and unlocking it with my passcode.

The summer after Junior year, we did all the parks in California over a two-week period. It’s actually where I truly found my love for hiking—not at all something I thought I’d enjoy as much as I do.

Anything outdoorsy, hiking included, has always been Keene’s thing more than mine. I’ve always been an inside person, preferring to spend most of my time gaming unless I’m messing around with my camera. But when Keene suggested I take my camera with us on the trails to take some landscape shots, the whole game changed.

I’d never messed around with landscapes before, being more of an urban photographer since we grew up in the city. Capturing candid photos of people on the bus or shots of some of my favorite buildings in the city were my main subjects.

To say I fell in love with nature on that trip would be the understatement of the century, and I have Keene to thank for it.

“Well,” I say, reaching over and tapping on the image folder I’ve been compiling over the past couple hours, “I was thinking we could hit all the ones in Utah. Maybe even—”

“Utah in the middle of summer?” He barks out a laugh. “We’re gonna die from heatstroke if we do that.”

I roll my eyes. “Always with the theatrics. Are you sure you’re not a drama major? It’d be a far better fit.”

The shove he gives me with his foot is almost enough to push me off the bed, even from this awkward angle. I always seem to underestimate the strength in his legs, despite knowing he literally does squats on a daily basis by being a catcher. Which…could definitely be useful down the line if I ever want him to ride my dick.

The thought makes said dick twitch against the mattress.

“Shut your cakehole, Pen,” he says playfully. “Before I make you.”

Oh, I’d love to see him try. And if shutting me up means my lips around his cock?

Well, I’m fucking sold.

“We’ll put a pin in that,” I say slowly. My eyes heat as I crawl back over to him, telling myself to cool it before I end up breaking the one rule he set tonight by jumping his bones.

“But back to more important topics, you’ve bitched about every option I’ve given you since the beginning of the term. Quit being so damn picky and then maybe I’d stop calling you dramatic.” I grab the phone from his hand, opening my Maps app to show him the route I planned out. “Just hear me out. We could hit all five National Parks in Utah, and if we really wanted, the four in Colorado too. Maybe stop at a couple other hotspots on the way there and back to make a big trip of it. A full month, maybe a bit longer?”

If I had my way, we’d be gone the whole summer. Check out all the parks not just in Utah and Colorado, but even New Mexico and Arizona too. A four corners trip. Spend both of our birthdays out on the road, getting hot and sweaty from the sun during the day, only to shower and do it all over again at night while we devour each other’s bodies.

Sounds pretty damn perfect to me.

He asks a couple questions, mostly about dates and costs, uncertainty etched into his features as he continues to flick through the pictures. I answer them honestly, having already worked out most of the details before I mentioned it to begin with.

And who said making plans was a bad thing?

I don’t tell him about the ones I’ve made for his birthday, though—staying in one of those swanky-ass glamping tents for a few nights outside Moab. They’re the ones that are air-conditioned and have a freaking bathroom inside, not at all the kind of camping we’re used to doing, or the shit motels we’ve stayed at in the past.

It’s expensive as shit, but I know it’ll be worth it to see his eyes light up when we get there. Not to mention, Moab has those side-by-side and ATV rentals for us to go explore some canyons on the days we aren’t hiking Arches or Canyonlands. Something that’s been on the list of things we’ve both wanted to do on one of our trips.

Overall, I think it’s the best way to turn twenty-one besides going to the bars and getting shitfaced. Especially since our fake IDs have allowed that since we started college. And it’s so…Keene. Everything he’d love, all packed into a couple days of non-stop fun.

His teeth roll over his bottom lip for a few seconds as he looks at the screen before flipping back to the folder of all the places we could hike or sights we could see.

Raising his gaze, it collides with mine, and he asks, “Could we stay in Denver a couple days and catch a Rockies game?”

And that’s the moment I know I’ve got him.

My lips twitch at the corners. “Whatever you want.”

“Then…okay. Let’s do it.”

Hell yes.

“Utah and Colorado, here we come.” I grin at him.

His eyes latch on to my mouth as he smiles, two rows of perfect teeth framed by the most kissable lips I’ve ever seen. And the way my heart thuds harder in my chest at the sight is the main reason I close the space between us entirely, rolling him to his back before taking his mouth.

I knock the hat from his head by sinking my fingers into his hair as his arms wrap around my waist. Warm palms slide under my shirt to find skin, and I shudder against him. We’ve been doing this for weeks now, and I don’t think I’ll be getting used to what his touch does to me anytime soon.

“I told you no sex until after I’ve studied,” he says against my lips.

“I don’t want sex,” I murmur, the truth in those words hitting me harder than anticipated.

“Then what’re you doing?” His whisper is gruff and grated when he breaks away from me to meet my gaze. The confusion written in them increases the ache in my chest.

“Just kissing you.”

“But…why?”

Because you’re mine.

I’ve said that to him before, in the heat of the moment. But saying it now, it feels so much more…real? So instead of answering, I kiss him again. Needier, this time.

But something doesn’t sit right with me, and I can’t push the thought away now. Not even his lips are enough for me to let go.

Why the hell am I not trying to get this to lead to sex? That’s all this is supposed to be between us. Fun and fucking. That’s what we agreed to. That’s the rule I put in place for us to follow, trying to make sure we didn’t cross any invisible lines so our friendship survived.

So it makes no sense for me to be the one to break them, especially as the one who thinks things through before acting. Who knows all actions have consequences, and the fallout of this could be downright catastrophic. A ticking time bomb lodged right next to my heart.

An emotional Chernobyl, leaving only devastation in its wake.

Knowing this, realizing it at this moment, it still isn’t enough to stop me, though. So I take his mouth harder, tugging the bottom lip between my teeth until he gasps from the bite of pain. Giving him the tiniest amount that I’m feeling.

His hands grip the front of my shirt, curling it in his fists to pull me closer.

Closer than he should ever dare.

Closer than I should let him, out of self-preservation and fear alone.

But how can I be afraid when everything about him screams things like safety and security and home?

My tongue pillages his mouth, coaxing and wanting and taking everything he has to give me. Greedy and aching for it as I burn up in the slow, searing agony that is the war between my head and heart.

When I’m forced to break away for air, I still can’t find a molecule of oxygen when I let my eyes wander to his face. His lips, red and swollen from my kiss and the slightest hit of stubble burn, steal my breath.

He reaches up, fingers curling around the back of my neck and brings my forehead down to rest against his. I breathe him in, all citrus and musk and Keene, letting the scent overwhelm me until I’m cocooned in it like a security blanket.

In the safety that is Keene.

At least, I thought so until his breath, hot against my lips, destroys it all with three words.

Not those words, but ones that answer thoughts I never spoke aloud.

Ones with the power to detonate that fucking bomb sitting inside my chest.

“You’re mine too.”