Page 12 of Lust

Something hard presses against my pelvis, wedged between us. As he raises himself up on his elbows, he grunts. “Fucker, look what you did to me.”

“Which thing are you talking about? I can’t control your boners, dude.”

“I meant running into me. And you don’t have any room to talk about the other thing.”

As he shoots me a glare, I notice I’m as stiff as he is, and it’s not helping that our bodies are still tight against each other, neither of us making a move to pull away.

This is definitely gonna show in gym shorts.

God, he has a fucking pretty mouth. I could just kiss him right now.

Stop it. He’s doing this to you!

Brad reaches in his collar, grabbing hold of his necklace again.

As he pushes off me, there’s still a buzz from him being up on me, but now it’s like my body wants him back on me, craving that sensation again. I’m fucking empty inside without it.

What the fuck are you doing to me, Brad Henning?

As I try to get up in a way that’ll make my hard-on less obvious, I notice his isn’t as bad, maybe because of whatever the hell he’s doing with his necklace. Frustratingly, I’m the one who ends up getting looks and chuckles from the others on our team.

“Look who’s getting hot and bothered from all the action,” Alexei teases as we get into positions for our next play.

I roll my eyes, my gaze turning to the bleachers, where one lone student sits in the stands beside a backpack.

The guy looks familiar. Shorter than me, with blond hair. When I see him, he’s typically with Brad and Seth, but I can’t remember his name.

He’s too far away for me to be sure, but I have this feeling he’s looking at me.

He tilts his head, and Ross, our team captain, calls my name, pulling me back into the game.

I don’t give the guy in the stands much thought until the game’s over, but when I look for him, he’s gone, which gives mean uneasy feeling. Of course, most things do when it comes to that crew.

After the game—which my team lost—I head back to the dorm to shower off. While I’m scrubbing myself down, I notice my dick’s still a little aroused as my thoughts keep returning to the moment when Brad was lying on top of me. It felt good to have his weight on me.

Fuck, no, I hate that asshole. And I’m fucking straight!

But the more I fight it, the harder I seem to get.

I give my cock a stroke, closing my eyes and imagining Brad pulling back the curtain and coming in here, pushing against me, locking his lips against mine.

I hate myself for the fantasy, but I can’t help what my dick wants right now.

I give my cock another stroke, when suddenly my fantasy shifts, and I’m a kid with Mom and Dad at Christmastime.

The hell?

Flashes of memories with my parents come flooding back. I’m very young. Making Dad’s birthday cake with Mom. Going out to picnics at the lake.

My mind’s out of control, taking me back through vivid scenes from my past.

I press my hand against the shower wall, taking deep breaths as I try to push them back, but the memories come even stronger than before.

I’m at the hospital with Mom. I can see in her teary eyes that the news isn’t good. What’s wrong with Dad? A familiar grief overtakes me. I’m back in that nightmarish moment.

As I struggle to pull myself from the scene, the image of the guy from the bleachers pops up.

Blond locks.

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