22. Brad
22
brAD
P art of me wasn’t sure why I’d done it. With the threat of everyone around, knowing anyone could have been standing right beside us. The need to kiss Dylan had been too great, however, and it was worth the potential questioning that might happen.
He’d felt so good in my arms, and even when we broke apart, I kept holding him throughout the concerts and shows for the day. Dylan didn’t slip away or into the mosh pit, he just stayed in my arms, letting me hold him so close as we got rained on. His head bobbed in enjoyment, and he kept smiling or shouting out the words, and I only focused on him.
This felt like a lot more than friends with benefits.
By the time the festival was over, I still somehow felt like I could have kept holding him for longer. Into the night, into the next day. Once people cleared out, I released him and we headed off for the campsite again. It felt like a bubble that kept bursting every time I remembered I had to quiet down everything I felt for him.
That was an even bigger problem, though, because I wasn’t supposed to be feeling anything for him. Back to the stupid friends with benefits situation I’d agreed to. A little fun now and again, no feelings and no pressure. No strings attached.
Dylan didn’t know the way I felt about him, he didn’t know that I was deceiving him and lying all the time. Pretending I was okay with it, that I wasn’t affected by pretending to only be friends who sleep together…it was a lot.
Where was the line drawn between what was acceptable and what wasn’t? Kissing him seemed to be okay, but so did holding him. If I was in my right mind, I wouldn’t have thought that someone who wanted to be no strings attached would be okay with my grubby paws around him all afternoon. That seemed more like a thing for romance, for couples.
Dylan and I were always close, so that li ne kept getting fuzzier. It was doing my head in. I kept trying to read into every interaction, trying desperately to figure out if Dylan felt the same way and if I could summon the courage to talk about it.
He’d called that one rockstar hot, though, and I didn’t know what to make of it. Famous people, everyone knew, were fine to call hot, but where did Dylan draw the line? Was he, at some point, going to be fine hooking up with someone? If the rockstar drummer had hit on him, would he have gone along with it? It was one thing to call a famous person hot on TV, but what was seeing them in person?
The thoughts kept swirling in my head, even as we reached the tents and found Charlie and Theo already passed out, and Shane and Alex were talking in hushed tones. Probably something law related from the quick peek in to say hello we’d seen. Jason and Micah weren’t in our tent or anywhere to be found.
So Dylan and I had it to ourselves for a bit. We were filthy from all the rain and dirt, and from just the general nature of being at a festival. All those sweaty bodies pressing against you and working into a sweat ourselves made it a pretty miserable experience. Tomorrow we’d get to shower properly, and that would make us feel normal again.
Silently, we slipped into our sleeping bags, and I lay looking into the darkness. Were we going to talk? Was Dylan so tired he was about to just pass out and none of this thinking mattered? Not that I was courageous enough to even talk to him about any of it at the moment, not when the day had been so good.
“Brad? What’s on your mind?” Dylan asked, his voice quiet in the night.
I swallowed. Shit. He really knew me too well. “You.”
Silence stretched in the tent.
Why the hell had I said that? What was I thinking? Panic gripped me, throat closing up.
“Come here…” his voice was gently raspy.
I hesitated for only a moment before shifting over to where his bag was. It wasn’t far. “Dylan…”
He shifted, and his hand was on my cheek, tilting my face toward him. He leaned in, softly kissing me. My breath caught for a moment. Was this the first time he’d made the move? My heart soared, and I pressed against him more.
I slid my tongue over his bottom lip, and he made this soft sound like he was already excited. His lips parted, and I slid into his mouth, savoring the sensation of our tongues pressed together. His lips tasted like salt.
Dylan’s hand moved from my face, down to my chest. Resting there on my heart like he could sense everything that lay there, all the secrets I’d kept from him for years, the true depth of how much I ached for him. As if reacting to his touch, my heart began to pound.
His hand moved away, and I was almost disappointed, but how could I be disappointed when I got to kiss the most beautiful man I’d ever had the privilege of being around?
Especially when his hand didn’t stop until his arm was inside my sleeping bag and he cupped my crotch. Slowly, he moved his hand, and I groaned into our kiss, my dick responding with a twitch.
This was a dangerous game — Jason and Micah could have returned any minute. Plus, there were four people in the other tent who could hear us if we were too loud. We didn’t want that, so I kissed him harder. I unzipped his sleeping bag, amazed at my ability to even think as his hand kept moving against my dick, stroking me to hardness.
I followed suit with my own sleeping bag, and his arm relaxed. Before I could move, he pressed himself closer, almost rolling into my bag with me. He kept kissing me harder, more and more desperate.
My hands moved along his body, slipping under his shirt to feel his back and down to his thin little waist, tracing over his clothed hips and cupping his ass. Soft little noises slipped into my mouth from him, and deft fingers were undoing my pants. My cock throbbed in its confines, and I pulled back for air, gasping as he released my length to the night air. Fingers wrapped around it, and I bit my lip to quiet my groaning.
He was really worked up for some reason. My thoughts drifted to that drummer, and a burning sensation of jealousy boiled in my stomach. Shit, this wasn’t good. This was no strings attached — this wasn’t supposed to be about jealousy or other people. This was just us, two friends who’d known each other for a long time.
I slid his pants and underwear down, desperate to feel more of him. My hands caressed over his taut ass, wishing for a moment that we were back in a hotel with a shower and the comfort of a bed so I could fuck him properly.
For now, though, this would have to do.
I grabbed his cock and kissed him again as we stroked in tandem. Sounds slipped into the kiss, but we were both trying so hard to keep quiet. I could only imagine if the others caught on. Jason and Micah were still up in the air, and they both had big mouths.
His cock was hard in my hand, not as thick or long as mine, but I knew from the time in the hotel that it was so pretty to look at. I wished again that we had the luxury, but I’d take what I could have of Dylan. Pleasure swam through my body, starting from the sensation of kissing him and wanting him this much to the way he stroked my cock. Measured, even, like he knew my cock better than I did.
I sped up my strokes as waves of pleasure kept flowing through me, with every flick of Dylan’s wrist, getting closer to that breaking point. It would have been almost embarrassing how much I was turned on just from a simple handjob. Dylan knew just where to press, though, knew just how to stroke me in a way that made me pant against him, trying my best to stroke him along with me. How did he know I liked a little extra pressure against just that one particular spot?
“Oh, Brad…” his words were so soft, almost like I couldn’t hear him before his release spilled over my hand, hips pumping weakly into my grip.
The simple sound of his voice was enough to send me over, the way his hand stilled, like he was in full paralysis from the power of his release. I pumped into his hand, stroking myself with his hand as pleasure crested over my body.
We kept kissing, desperate and hot and wet in the tent, and everything felt so hot as we lay there together. Finally, Dylan broke away, releasing my cock with a gasp.
Watching him, I was struck by just how incredible he was. I could hardly see him in the low light, but enough that I could make out his pretty parted lips and the straight nose I wanted to trace with a finger.
I was in way too deep.