Four
Kaleb
It’s quarter after midnight when I step into the bathhouse, both expecting and hoping for it to be deserted this time of night. Most of the camp is usually dead asleep by now, doing their best to recharge for a jam-packed day sure to come tomorrow.
Tonight, though, it seems someone had the same idea as me since one of the three showers is already in use, causing steam to fill the room.
I glance at the vanity to find a small leather toiletry bag—the letters AJR embossed on the side—and my mood instantly takes a plummet off Mount Hood. While I might not know what the J stands for, the A and R are clearly Avery Reynolds.
“Fucking great,” I mutter under my breath before dropping my own things on the sink to unpack my shampoo and body wash.
I’ve worked at the camp for the past three summers, and it’s always grueling. Long, sometimes very hot, days outdoors. Constantly handling a bunch of kids who need this, that, or the other thing. Activities packed in our schedule from dawn to dusk to make sure they’re all so exhausted when it’s lights out, there’s no shenanigans after—something a few returning campers are notorious for causing.
So when it comes to the end of the day, I need these thirty minutes of alone time to take the hottest shower imaginable. It’s my time to wash away not only the dirt and grime from the day, but also all the stress and frustration I have to keep bottled up while I’m around the kids.
Stress Avery now adds to.
He’s fucking everywhere.
Spending all this time with him is starting to really wear on me, and it’s only been a few days. And most of it is thanks to the intense buzzing feeling I get whenever we’re within a few feet of each other.
I felt it when we were in his cabin the day he got here, then when he grabbed me and pulled me to the side the following morning. A few more times in the days since then too, like when we took the boys on the lake and I was forced to witness Avery in nothing but a pair of swim trunks for hours at a time.
It’s taken me a few days to place the feeling. And after today, I know exactly what it is…no matter how much I wish I didn’t.
It’s attraction. Desire.
Fucking lust.
All things I’d never want to feel for him.
I thought I’d left this stupid crush in the past, all the way back in freshman year. Tucked it in the Never Gonna Happen box and buried it in the recesses of my mind. Add in everything he’s done recently, and I was certain that box would never see the light of day again.
A mistaken notion on my part, it seems, since the head in my shorts is severely at odds with the one on my shoulders. Which is just fucking wonderful.
I do my best to shove thoughts of him aside, even if he’s within a couple feet of me at the moment, and slip into the empty stall beside him. Blowing out a long breath, I flip the nozzle on the shower to let it heat and then I undress, all the while perfectly aware of that damn feeling growing inside me.
Avery hasn’t made a peep while I’ve been in here, so he’s either ignoring me, or he must not have heard me over the running water in his own stall. Either way, I can only be thankful and then hope he’s in and out before I’m done…or vice versa.
No run-ins. No interactions.
Last thing I need after my epiphany earlier is to run into him half naked in a towel. Or just plain naked. Or just run into him in general.
Complete avoidance would be preferable, really.
I start on my hair, lathering shampoo in my palm before sticking my head beneath the spray to rinse. Ignoring the electric feeling from being this close to him is nearly impossible, and I even go as far as turning the dial on the shower down to cold. But the frigid water does nothing to temper the roaring desire at knowing he’s only a couple feet away from me.
Naked and wet and—
A soft moan comes from the stall beside me, and I almost drop my bottle of body wash on the floor.
What the—?
Another groan, this one deeper and more drawn out, echoes through the bathhouse. Loud enough that there’s no way he knows I’m in here.
He’d only be doing what I think he’s doing if he assumed he was still alone.
Oh my God.
As a few more seconds pass, I do my best to keep perfectly silent…and listen for any other tell-tale sounds to confirm my suspicions. Because maybe it’s not what I think. Hell, part of me is praying to whatever god might exist that Avery isn’t currently jacking off in the stall beside me.
But God must hate me, because after another soft moan fades, I can hear the distinct sound of skin moving over more skin.
“Fucking hell,” comes a lust-thickened voice, barely more than a rough whisper, over the water pelting down on the tile floor.
I’m hot all over, the cold water dousing my skin doing nothing to calm the fire burning inside me. And it only gets worse as more of his groans reverberate through the bathroom like they’re in surround sound. So it’s not surprising when the erotic noises are enough to stir my cock to life.
Fucking hell is right.
Flipping the shower cold enough to become hypothermic, I douse my entire body in the spray before gripping my cock around the base and squeezing. Hard. Because I can’t…I just can’t—
“Oh, shit,” Avery groans. Then a loud smack of his hand against the tiled wall sends another bolt of lust straight to my dick.
Ah, screw it.
If I’m gonna get hard listening to the asshole getting off, I might as well use it to my benefit. At least, that’s the logic my dick has thought up as I flip the water over to scalding, adding some soap to my palm before wrapping my fist around my cock.
Stroking at a slow, leisurely pace, my eyes fall closed and my head drops back. I allow the pleasure to build within me, despite knowing this is a terrible idea with him only feet away.
But I had to spend all day helping him lift those canoes, seeing the sun shining down on his naked, tanned torso the whole time. And it was torture. I had to look away at one point, because having him catch me jaw-dropped and ogling would only add fuel to the fire between us.
Now, though? There’s no reason for me to keep it from shifting back to the forefront of my brain.
Visions of wet, smooth skin and carved muscle race through my thoughts as Avery’s soft, low pants continue raining down on me like the shower I’m standing beneath. The combination immediately invades my senses, making my blood boil with the need for release.
My teeth sink into my lower lip hard enough for the familiar tang of copper to coat my tongue. But it’s better than the alternative: letting moans or expletives slip free.
The steam and temperature of the shower added to the white- hot lust running through my veins like lava starts overwhelming me, and I press my forehead to the cool tile wall to keep from overheating. But I don’t stop my hand from moving, nor the images from flooding my brain.
Of Avery in the exact same position as me, only this wall separating us.
His fist around what I’m sure is a thick and veiny cock. The muscles of his forearm and neck becoming corded and strained with effort as he brings himself closer and closer to ecstasy. To the infinite bliss that is—
Avery lets out a sharp hiss before a long, slow sigh of pleasure is mixed in with the, “Oh, fuck, yes,” he mutters.
—release.
His curse draws my own balls up, and I swear, I’m right behind him. I move my palm over my length while also thrusting into my fist, fucking it with reckless abandon and rolling the head with every upstroke. The pressure and pace I’m keeping primes me to launch sky-high into the stratosphere, and I’m craving the euphoria that comes with it.
So much so, I don’t even care about the plummet back to Earth after.
A soft moan manages to slip past my lips, and I sink my teeth into the inside of my cheek to keep it from happening again.
God, I’m close. I’m so fucking close, I can feel my release barreling down my spine as my hand glides over my length faster and faster. Desperation takes over, and a low moan disguised as a sigh slips free from my mouth right as—
The shower curtain on my stall is yanked to the side without warning, revealing Avery on the other side. A towel sits low on his hips, and it’s the only thing giving him a barrier of decency. But me, on the other hand? I’m bare-ass naked, harder than I’ve ever been, and seconds away from coming.
All of which is mortifying when realization sets in.
“What the actual fuck?” I snap, grabbing the shower curtain and wrestling it from his grip to hide my erection from view. But it’s too little, too late. From the way he blinks up at me, nearly stunned to silence, he got more than an eyeful.
Fuck me running.
He just stands there, staring while the water pounds down over me. Which makes me uncomfortable as hell, but for all the wrong reasons. Because now that he’s in sight—water still dripping from his hair and cascading down his chest—my cock has more concrete images to work with.
And that’s really not what needs to happen right now.
I aim my best death glare at him, hoping it hides the straight-up lust I’m trying my best to rein in. “Do you mind? A little privacy while I shower would be nice.”
Avery still looks stunned as he mutters out an explanation I didn’t ask for. “The place was empty when I came in here. But I heard the shower still running when I turned mine off.”
“That’s generally what happens when another person is in a different shower stall.”
“I didn’t realize someone else would be in here at this time.” He shakes his head, still a little stunned. “I thought it just…turned on.”
I arch a brow and scoff. “So, naturally, that possessed you to barge into the stall and check? Rather than, I don’t know, asking if someone was in here? Or run the opposite way, in case the place was haunted?”
The barrage of questions paired with my taunting quickly lights his very short fuse, snapping him into true asshole-Avery form. And while it isn’t something I enjoy, at least it tamps my libido down enough so I’m no longer saluting him at the waist.
“I don’t know what I was thinking, Kaleb. It’s been a long-as-shit week, and it’s not even over yet. I might as well be an extra on The Walking Dead right now, and I sure as hell didn’t think someone else would’ve come in here at fucking midnight!”
“And my stuff sitting out there on the counter wasn’t a dead giveaway?” I muse.
“Oh, my God,” he says, shaking his head while stepping back. “Did you not hear a word I just said? I’m minutes away from hallucinations, for Christ’s sake. You think I really saw it?”
He’s got a point, even if I’ll never admit it aloud. I remember my first week of camp as a counselor, and it’s like he said—zombified.
“Okay, fine,” I concede before noting the water slowly starting to cool as it hits my skin. “But are we done here? I kind of want to finish my shower.”
I go to pull the curtain back into place without waiting for his answer, but he grabs the fabric again and holds it open. So once again, I’m forced to grab it back and cover myself.
Jesus Christ.
“Oh, hell no. We’re not even close to being done. You wanna sit and question me? Well, let’s talk about what the hell you’re doing in here,” he growls before jutting his chin toward me. “Because it looks an awful lot like you’re perving in a boy’s camp.”
I open my mouth, ready to call him out for doing the exact same thing minutes earlier…only to realize I can’t. If he knew I was getting off to the sounds he was making, it would only make worse implications.
And the last thing I want is to give him more opportunities for uncovering my sexuality.
So, on the fly, I come up with a cover plausible enough to deny perving of any kind.
“Oh, fuck off, Reynolds. Don’t act like you’ve never gotten a little hard from cleaning your dick.”
“Really? Cleaning it? That’s what we’re calling it these days?”
A dubious look appears on his face, brows arched in challenge when he crosses his arms over his broad chest, smattered with a fine dusting of blond hair.
Abort, abort, abort.
“Fine, you got me, okay? I was jerking it. You really gonna tell me you’re prepared to go eight whole weeks without getting off?” I pause and shake my head. “But it’s not like I was… perving on them. They were nowhere in my thoughts.”
Just the idea makes me wanna gag.
Perving on him, on the other hand…that just makes me horny. Unfortunately.
There’s still a slight amount of judgment in his tone when he asks, “And you knowingly did that with someone else in the stall next to you?”
He’s got me there, and I do the only thing I can in this situation.
I lie.
“You’re not the only one exhausted enough to think you were the only one in here.”
A slight blush tints his cheeks, and I’m not sure if it’s from the steam in the bathhouse or the insinuation I made. Either way, it’s enough to throw him a little off balance, and he clears his throat before he plays it off as best he can.
“Yeah, well…make sure you’re actually alone next time.” He coughs before clearing his throat again. “But I, uh, I guess you can…get back to it.”
The buzzing feeling hasn’t gone away while we’ve been in this little showdown so much as it’s faded into the background with the conversation. But now that it’s over, and he’s still standing here in only a damn towel…well, shit. Let’s just say I’m happy my dick is currently hidden from view.
“Thanks,” I murmur sarcastically, painfully aware of the thickness suddenly present in my voice. I try to keep my eyes locked on his face instead of his insane body while he steps back toward the counter, but nope. The second he turns his back toward me to comb through his hair, I’m ensnared by those muscles instead of his abs and pecs.
“You can shut the curtain now, LaMothe,” he says while meeting my gaze through the mirror above the sink. “Unless you’re planning to give me a show.”
My stomach rolls, a mix of fear and anticipation rushing through me as I yank the fabric shut, effectively closing me off from him. And it’s only when he’s out of sight that I feel as if I can finally breathe again.
I need to get this baseless attraction under control.
I guess it’s not entirely baseless; Avery’s an obviously good-looking guy, from an objective standpoint. It’s something I noticed early on when I met him; it was just super easy to lock down because, one, he’s fucking straight. And two, we were friends, and I wasn’t gonna ruin that.
Thankfully, after seeing him become a grade-A asshole, the attraction began fading on its own. Though, apparently not as much as I thought, if the state of my cock has anything to say about the matter.
I squeeze around the base again, trying to ease some of the pressure building, but it’s no use. Release is the only thing that’ll bring me relief at this point.
And, God, I hate myself for how much I wanna be listening to his voice while it happens.
“I shower every night at this time, just so you know,” I call out from behind the curtain, slowly stroking my length some more as I wait for him to respond. When he remains silent, I add, “Wouldn’t want to have this kind of run-in again.”
Still nothing.
From the lack of response, I don’t even know if he’s still in here or if he’s just screwing with me all over again. I’m not sure why it matters to me. I can get off just fine with or without him here.
And I certainly have no fucking clue if giving him that tidbit of information was meant to be a warning…or a hopeful invitation.