Page 43 of Beautifully Devoted

“What?” I say. “I was leading the whole time.”

“You lost points for throwing the pillow.”

“How many points?” I demand.

“Three,” Bennet says decisively.

“Three? How does throwing the pillow cost me three whole points?”

“Two for throwing and one for picking up a pillow that wasn’t yours.” He shrugs indifferently. “Cheating costs you.”

“I needed a pillow.”

“Shouldn’t have tossed yours then.” Bennet winks at me as he gives my cheek a playful little smack.

“Whatever.” I pull back the waistband of his shorts and let it slap back against his hip, which won’t really sting since the shorts I loaned him are soft as fuck, but it’s the principle.

“We got next.” Bennet points at Liam, and the two of them start a battle while Cruz acts as ref. It’s a conflict of interest if you ask me, but at least they’re having fun.

“Get some good video Cam?” I step next to my best friend and look at the footage he got over his shoulder.

“I’ll have to blur out your ass.” He points to the part where Cruz almost pulls my shorts off as I roll. “But yeah. It was more entertaining than I expected it to be. Want to film an intro?”

“Nah, I think we just post it and say something like this is how we figure out whose turn it is to do the dishes with some hashtags. Keep it simple.”

“Should I zoom in on the waistbands to get the logos?”

“That’s too much like an advertisement.” I shake my head. “It’s supposed to be more like lifestyle content than product ad, so just the hashtags should be enough.”

As Cam uploads the video—he’s got full access to all my socials since he’s better at this shit than I am—I watch Liam and Bennet go at it. They’re similarly matched to me and Cruz, with Liam being a bit lighter and more squirely than his opponent. Though his blows barely give Bennet pause, while his fair skin is pretty red from the ones he’s received. That’s not meant as a slight against Liam, just an unfortunate side effect of having more sensitive skin. Cruz, to his credit, is calling a fair match and not freaking out about the damage his boyfriend is taking.

At the end of their round, Liam is up a point, having got in a pretty sneaky hit to the leg that Bennet couldn’t get away from. In my mind, that means us nimble guys are better at this game, since I only lost on a technicality.

Next Cam and Cruz step into the ring, and while Cruz probably has at least fifteen pounds of muscle on Cam, they’re roughly the same height and agility level, so this promises to be a good matchup.

Yes, I’m as bad as the damn announcers who commentate on the pillow fights on TV. That doesn’t mean I think it’s a valid sport, I’m just getting into our version.

Liam refs while Bennet and I cheer them on, which gives me way too much opportunity to really study my best friend.

He’s lighter on his feet than his size would suggest—not that he’s huge—just solid. Abs coiled tight, he circles Cruz, eyes narrowed in concentration as he looks for an opening. When Cruz leaps forward Cam twists and dodges, and those muscles ripple as they work to help him keep his balance. That’s fucking hot.

As he evades Cruz, he manages a backhanded swing that connects with Cruz’s ass, hard. The smack echoes throughout the room hard, like the crack of a whip, and the three spectators wince as Cruz yelps.

“Fuck, that’s as bad as getting smacked with a wet towel,” he says as he rubs the sting away.

“If you’d ever been hit by Cam’s towel, you’d know how wrong you are. I once couldn’t sit for three days after he got me,” I tell him. Cam’s a friggin’ ninja with those things, and I highly doubt these pillows, as unforgiving as they are, could compare.

“Oh my God, you had to bring one of those little butt donuts to school to sit in your chair.” Cam bursts into laughter as he recalls the damage he did to my poor innocent, virgin ass, and the sound instantly brings a smile to my face.

Cam has the best laugh in the world. It comes from deep in his belly and shakes his whole body, making it impossible not to join in. That’s the laugh of someone carefree, who doesn’t question if people see him as just a pretty face or worry about turning into his asshole father. I laugh all the time, but my version isn’t nearly as infectious as Cam’s, and I never get tired of hearing it.

Our little trip down memory lane is cut off when Cruz smacks him in the head with a pillow, and he’s forced to pull his attention back to the fight.

Prowling like a cat, Cam circles Cruz, tracking every step so he’s ready to dodge or strike. Just as it does on the field, his posture gives him a commanding air, implying that you can’t beat him or take him by surprise. It makes watching him a thrill, only today, there’s an element of sex appeal to that thrill I’ve previously never noticed before.

It’s possible between the prostate rabbit hole and the hand job incident of a few hours ago, my previously defined orientation isn’t so defined. Also, I may be developing a slight sexual attraction to my best friend.

Well, it did cross my mind earlier that we did a pretty good job adding dicks to the mix without making things weird, so… maybe since he turns me on, we can do it again?

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