Page 50 of Choke Up

"I swear to fucking God, if you noogie me, pick me up, or do any of that stupid kid shit to me even once, I'll smother you in your sleep. I already don't want to do this," I say seriously.

He lets me go and puts his hands up in surrender. "Whatever you say, little bro."

He snickers at my glare as he walks around to the driver's side and gets in. Even after he cranks the engine, I stand there for an extra minute, contemplating all the mistakes I've made that led me to where I am now.

Elliot is quite proud of the pull he has with his coach, and the sneaky call that was made to student services over the weekend. When I showed up for my appointment Monday morning, they already had the paperwork filed for me to transfer my residency to the athletic dorms. Since there was a vacancy in my brother's dorm, and the coach had put in a good word for me, it's now official. I'm stuck living with Elliot and Gabe. I tried asking if there were any other choices, but the lady looked at me like I was an idiot.

How is it that I thought I could separate myself from those two, and yet here I am, with Elliot saving my ass yet again—even if I specifically told him to mind his own business. And I'm far from being over Gabe now. No, my feelings for him are so much worse. I keep berating myself for being so stupid. Read the signs, Ellis. Focus on all the red flags. But suddenly, red is my new favorite color and I'm finding myself making excuses for everything he's done.

The way he watches me doesn't help. I feel his gaze burning through my skin every time I walk through the apartment. Whenever I catch him watching me, he smiles sadly, continuing to apologize with his eyes. When he doesn't think I notice, I see the raw want in his eyes, and it makes everything so much worse.

I try to remember what a selfish, mindless idiot he is whenever I'm knuckle deep in my own ass, pushing lidocaine cream inside me to soothe the throb of the injury he gave me. I know he didn't mean to do it. I know he's wrecked about it, which is why I haven't let on about the actual injury. There's also a part of me that doesn't want this to be yet another reason we can't be together. Because I wasn't able to take him.

"Pizza tonight?" Elliot calls out after dropping the last of my things on my new bed—a full sized bed, rather than the twin I've been used to sleeping on. And Jimmy left his memory foam mattress topper behind. The bed and private bathroom alone are almost worth the heartache.

"Don't team workouts start soon?" I reply, because this is the second night this week that we've had pizza, and yesterday we ordered Chinese. I'm used to Gabe and Elliot being pretty strict with their diets, especially when they're only weeks away from the season starting.

"YOLO!"

After we have pizza, I'm bullied into watching TV with them. They're watching Ted Lasso, so I allow it, but it's uncomfortable as hell. The two of them are giants and take up nearly the whole couch, and I ended up having to be squeezed in between them. Gabe's thigh ended up being pressed against mine, so it was impossible to relax. Not only does my entire body ache from the strain of not allowing myself to melt into his touch, however accidental it was, but the position I was sitting in required me to sit directly on my ass for too long.

Does anyone actually carry around that stupid donut pillow, advertising their ass problems? I think not. I'm not going to be bringing that thing to class or sitting on it when I'm home with these two assholes. Which basically means I never use it, and just stand as much as possible. Which, considering I had two lecture classes in a row and have been sitting squashed between a giant and a mountain troll for the past hour and a half, wasn't as much as I'd like.

After I hear Elliot leave the bathroom and the door to his room clicks shut, I pull out my bag of supplies and head to take care of the pain in my ass. I've just gotten my meds out, swallowed my dose of antibiotics, and am about to drop my pants when the door pushes open.

"Shit, I'm sorry," Gabe says reflexively, but when he sees that it's me and I'm not sitting on the toilet or anything, he stops his automatic retreat through the door. He hovers for a moment, catching my eyes in the mirror while I prep my toothbrush, trying to cover up the fact that I was just about to drop my shorts and finger myself. Reminder to self, lock the fucking door.

Gabe looks like he wants to say something, opening and closing his mouth several times before I feel bad enough to throw him a bone. Whether I'm ever able to talk him into trying with me, we have to live with each other. The least I can do is help make things less awkward.

"You alright there, guppy?

He gives me a confused look, so I mime opening and closing my mouth like a fish. He chuckles and swipes a hand through his hair. Fuck, he's gorgeous. His dark blond hair flops to one side of his forehead, and my fingers ache to push it back. His strong jaw is relaxed with his soft laughter. He's at that perfect level of facial hair that I like, just far enough past stubble that it's softer but would still leave my skin raw and red from rubbing against it.

Gabe averts his gaze, possibly picking up on my line of thought, and his eyes catch on the bathroom counter. "What's that?"

I don't have to follow his line of sight to know that he's gesturing to the tube of prescription ointment the doctor gave me. There are a few bright orange disposable applicators that have fallen out of the bag I keep everything in. I don't like how the applicators feel, so after a couple days of healing, I've started using my finger, massaging the medicine around the inside of my rim the way the Nurse Practitioner had demonstrated on an anatomical model.

"It's nothing," I say, but he swipes it up before I can hide everything back in the bag. My face flames as he reads the instructions, mouthing the words anal wound before giving me an intense glare.

"It's not nothing, Ellis," he hisses, moving into the room and closing the door behind him. Closed in the small space with him, I can't help but remember our hookup in the bathroom. Willing my cock to stay down, I meet Gabe's glare with one of my own.

"It's none of your business."

"Like fuck it isn't my business. I'm the one that—" he swallows and lowers his voice. "I'm the one that did this to you."

"You didn't mean to."

"But I did it."

"We were both inexperienced. It was an easy mistake."

"Don't patronize me."

I shut up then, looking at the wall instead of at him. "It's just a tiny fissure—like a paper cut. They said it'll heal in a couple of weeks."

He looks at the tube, and then down at me, and back at the tube again. "How do you…"

My face turns beet red. He's seen my asshole. He’s had his tongue and fingers inside me more than once. Hell, his entire cock was in there. That's how we got into this mess. Yet him knowing that I have to massage my hole with ointment multiple times daily makes me want to crawl under a rock and die.

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