8. Ari
EIGHT
ARI
I groan, blinking my eyes open to the dim light of dawn barely breaking through the curtains. There is no part of me that’s ready to be awake, other than maybe my dick, which is as hard and needy as ever.
I’m lying pressed against Will, like always. Except I’m wearing more clothes than usual, and I know for a fact this isn’t where I fell asleep. I should be on the couch, which I purposefully slept on because I refuse to allow myself to be put in this position again. I’m done humiliating myself.
I don’t remember crawling into his bed, but I have a chance to escape before he wakes up and realizes I’m here.
Except when I try to roll out of bed, his arms tighten around my middle.
“Will, let go. I need to get up.”
“Why?” he groans sleepily, trying to burrow his face into the back of my neck. My skin prickles to life, and I shiver like a cold breeze moved through me.
“Will! Stop that! What’s wrong with you?”
Growling in frustration, I turn over and push him away from me.
“Ari, what’s wrong?”
“I’m not supposed to be in here.”
“That’s bullshit. Where else would you be?”
“Well, on the couch for starters. But someone else’s bed would be nice for a change. I should have been—” I cut myself off, swallowing down the humiliation from last night. “It doesn’t matter. I need to get out of here.”
“Stay, Ari…”
“No, Will! I’m all—” I gesture wildly at myself. It’s obvious that I’m boned up, considering I’m wearing a pretty thin pair of pajama pants and a flimsy jock I wore for aesthetic appeal and not its ability to hold down an erection.
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.”
“I’m hard too,” he says a little awkwardly. “It’s just morning. It’s normal.”
“It’s not and you know it!” I shout as he reaches for me and attempts to pull me back into his arms. I fight him, making him grunt when he shifts his hips against me and his erection presses into the back of my thigh.
Oh Jesus Christ , he cannot be seriously stabbing me with that thing right now. I’m liable to rub myself on it like a cat or hop on and take him for a ride. Shit, there’s probably still enough lube inside me, it might not completely rip me in half.
I groan in frustration. “Don’t do this to me, Will.”
He laughs, but lets go, only to roll so he’s holding himself above me. “I’m not doing anything to you.”
“You’re making me crazy.”
“How am I the one making you crazy?”
I gesture at the way he’s hovering over me.
“I’m a red-blooded gay man pinned beneath a hot body with a big, hard dick rubbing against me.
Imagine if I were a hot naked woman that wasn’t actually interested in you, wouldn’t you be uncomfortable?
” In case he needs a demonstration to realize what kind of discomfort I’m in, I thrust my hips up, pushing my erection into his.
Will’s breath catches, and I expect him to pull away immediately, but he doesn’t. Even when I do it a second time, he just stares at me with an indecipherable expression.
“So do something about it,” he says, his voice low and gravely. Will meets my thrust with one of his own, and I barely choke back a moan.
“What?” I cough out.
“It’s not like you haven’t done this before.”
The reminder is almost enough to kill my boner. “That’s— no . It’s different.”
“How is it different?” He asks, rolling his hips experimentally.
I hiss, trying to hold back any movement or reaction to the feel of his body against mine. “None of the times that has happened was about sex. It was just my body reacting to stress and fear.”
“Seems like the outcome is still the same.”
“It’d be way worse.”
Will stops moving. “Worse? Like… it was bad?”
I let out a sardonic huff. “In the moment, it’s good. It’s comfort and relief. Obviously it feels good to come. But the moment it’s over, I feel pathetic,” I admit, my voice cracking. “Just like I did earlier tonight.”
Will stiffens. “He wasn’t good enough for you,” he says, his eyes dark, jaw tight. “And I?—”
He starts to say something else, but I cut him off. “It doesn’t matter if he was good enough. I thought he wanted me. I thought he… I went to the bathroom and got ready for him, Will. And then I stood there, waiting for someone who never showed up.”
I feel the way Will’s muscles contract. But either I misinterpreted how uncomfortable that made him, or he’s choosing to ignore it.
“Between that and waking up humping my foster brother’s leg on the regular, I’d say I’m allowed to feel pretty pathetic.”
His throat clicks with a swallow. “It’s not pathetic to need something or someone, Ari.”
“It is if you’re the only one who ever needs it.”
Will rolls his hips again, and my breath catches. There’s just enough light to see the uncertainty on his face.
I can’t let this happen. It would change everything. Ruin it.
My best friend. My brother. My everything.
“Don’t,” I rasp. “You don’t have to do this?—”
“Shh,” Will whispers. “It’s not like that. It’s good. It’s just… different.”
I open my mouth to protest more, but Will reaches for my hands, presses them above my head, and thrusts against me again. My mind goes blank. My legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass and encouraging him to keep moving. The friction is so fucking good, and yet not enough.
Will moans, and I swear the sound of it is enough to turn me feral.
“Ari, I need to tell you—” His voice is muffled in the side of my neck.
Lost to the madness that has been building up inside me for years, I hook a thigh around the back of one of his legs and turn my body. Will lets me roll on top of him.
“Later,” I growl softly, as Will grips my hips to keep me in place, thrusting up against me.
It’s a slow, intense grind. Heavy breaths and moans fill the room, and I wish I could hear our skin slapping together.
I wish there was no barrier between us. I wish I was truly riding him the way I’ve been imagining since he started watching me while someone else got to have him.
Will’s hands are gripping my ass, fingers digging into my flesh as he guides me to grind on him.
Whether purposely or accidentally, one hand slips down the back of my pajama bottoms and his fingers brush over my crack.
My breath hitches and I look down at his helpless expression, eyes hooded, mouth open.
Keeping his eyes locked on mine, as if testing that this is okay. Fuck yes, it’s okay! Please, for the love of God, don’t stop! One finger gently rubs across my hole.
He makes a sound that could be a cross between a groan and an exhale, the word wet tumbling from his lips.
His finger presses gently against me, and I nearly cry out with need.
Maybe I do. I don’t know. I don’t know what this is, or what we’re doing, or what is happening. I just know that I need it.
I rock back against his hand, encouraging him by flexing my core and pushing out so he can feel my asshole pulse with the need to be filled.
His finger just barely slips inside, and he gasps before giving it more pressure and pushing through the barrier.
Now he’s knuckle deep, still guiding me to rock against his hard cock, and I’m quickly reaching a point of no return.
I move my hips in a circle and rock back on his hand, trying to reach that aching space inside me.
When he touches it, my whole body lights up and clenches.
Will surges up with a gasp, and for a moment I think he’s going to kiss me.
But he’s panting, open mouth against mine, sharing breath.
He cries out his release. I shudder and throw my head back.
Will's mouth lands on my throat, and I come with a shout. It hits me harder than the poppers ever could, sending me into the stratosphere before I’m spinning back to earth.
The post-nut clarity hits me fast for having come so hard, but I’m immediately tense over what the fallout is going to be.
What did we just do?