13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Trey
The rain is steady, but not as heavy as it was before we got here.
Thunder still echoes in the distance, but the lightning has stopped.
Normally, I find storms relaxing. In fact, sometimes, when I’m feeling particularly lonely, or homesick, when I’m awake in the middle of the night like this, I put on relaxing rain sounds and close my eyes and zen the fuck out until I fall asleep.
But tonight, I fear not even the sound of the rain can put me out.
Not when my entire body feels like a damn strung wire in more ways than one.
After a hot shower and five slices of pizza too many, I’m feeling more relaxed, which would be great if I wasn’t hard as a fucking rock.
I’ve never felt self-conscious about such things before.
I can’t recall ever feeling self-conscious about my dick in front of other dudes before.
But here I am, heart in my throat, inches away from Hudson, terrified he’s going to move and discover my little problem.
Part of me thinks I should get up, head into the bathroom, and take care of said issue.
I mean, I could, and it wouldn’t be weird.
I could slip into the bathroom, shut the door, bite my tongue and just…
The thought alone makes my dick jump with excitement.
I palm it through my sweatpants, trying to hold in the grunt that wants to escape me.
I’m so hard I could hit a home run with this thing.
I’m equal parts irritated and desperate.
It’s annoying, but also kind of a turn on.
I grip my dick as I purse my lips, my gaze falling over the body next to me. Over Hudson…
As terrified as I am that he’ll roll over and feel me, or worse— see me with my hand over my dick, there’s a part of me that finds the idea hot as hell. My dick throbs, liking the idea too much.
Just like last time.
When I’d thought about being discovered in the bookstore.
When I thought about being shoved up against those shelves, books tumbling down around me while they stroked my dick.
I mean, it was me, but… I didn’t envision myself jacking myself off in public.
I imagined my hand was someone else’s, but it wasn’t like I had a clear picture of a person.
Just the idea of someone touching me, driving me over the edge, of having to keep quiet or I’d draw attention…
Fuck, my dick twitches again at the thought of that.
I have to fight to suppress the moan that wants to escape me.
Hudson shifts, and I freeze. I can’t tell if he’s sleeping or not, and something about that is equally thrilling as it is terrifying.
Thinking about Hudson discovering me with my hand around my dick doesn’t deter me the way it should.
In fact, I think it only makes it worse.
Maybe I am developing a kink or something.
Like some early midlife crisis shit. Is this what happens before you turn thirty?
I thought it was supposed to be motorcycles and Corvettes, not dicks with a mind of their own.
I let go of my dick, trying my best to remain still as a statue, to keep my breathing even.
Hudson settles, and I let out a shaky breath.
I keep my gaze on him as I slide my hand beneath the waistband of my sweatpants, beneath the tight fit of my boxer briefs.
Slowly, I slip my hand over my smooth shaft as I focus on keeping my breath steady so I don’t draw attention to what I’m doing.
There’s a small part of my brain that tells me this is a bad idea.
A fucking terrible idea. But the minute my thumb brushes over my slit, the minute I feel the familiar sticky, warm wetness of precum collecting there, I can’t deny how good it feels.
I swallow hard, my gaze still fixed on Hudson.
My eyes rove down his back, noting the way his muscles are corded in his back from his position.
Even through his shirt, in the low light, I can see the definition.
I wipe the precum over the soft, sensitive head of my dick and bite my tongue to keep quiet.
Then I hear him. He grunts out a sound, his shoulders shifting again, and I freeze, hand wrapped around my leaking dick, unable to move.
I can’t even breathe. And then he does it.
I barely have a second to react before he rolls over, and instinct kicks in, along with reality.
What the fuck am I doing? This is wrong on so many levels. So fucking many…
I roll over suspiciously quick, sucking in a breath as I pull my hand out of my pants and press my dick between my legs, my entire body tensing as I try to think the most unsexy thoughts imaginable, trying like hell to kill this damn hard-on that is making me feel every bit like some creepy pervert straight out of Bates Motel.
I let out a heavy breath as I stare at the wall, trying my hardest to ignore the ache between my legs, trying to ignore how fucking wet I am at the thought that I might get caught, even now. I swallow hard and close my eyes.
“Dead kittens. High School Musical. Waiting in line at the DMV,” I whisper to myself as low as I can as I force my eyes shut. I bury my face in my pillow.
Fuck, this isn’t working.
And because I’m a glutton for punishment, that’s the moment I feel Hudson against me. His front molds to the curve of my back, and the heat from his body warms me. And then I feel him.
Or rather, his dick. Hard against me.
My own twitches in response, and I tense, unsure what to do. I listen for any sort of sign that he’s awake, but I can’t tell. I should get up, head for the bathroom, and just… fix this.
That way, I can sleep. Thunder echoes in the distance; the rain a soft pitter-patter on the roof.
I should move, but I can’t.
All I can do is keep my eyes closed and pretend like I’m not having some middle of the night existential crisis and pray he rolls back over.
My breath catches as panic laces through me, but it’s not panic because his dick is touching me.
It’s not even a panic that he’s hard. I mean, it doesn’t happen that often anymore, but I’ve definitely woken up hard in the middle of the night before, so I know it’s not entirely his fault, and it certainly isn’t mine.
It’s not even a panic because I could get caught.
Those things make the most sense, but… what’s making me panic right now, doesn’t make sense to me. At all.
His body shifts again, and I feel the twitch of his dick against me like an earthquake.
Precum coats my head as my dick throbs, as I press my legs together; my heart racing like a roller coaster diving down from the highest peak.
I close my eyes as my body tenses, going numb from the realization that I’m panicking because my best friend’s dick is pressed against me, and I don’t hate it one fucking bit.