Page 41 of Fever Dream
The stress of the moment is making this a lot harder than it needs to be so in the end I tip my head back and close my eyes and I picture Casey lying out there on the bed. That perfect cock resting against his thigh. I picture myself walking out there, crawling onto the bed, my intentions clear as his cock hardens. His eyes darken as I part his thighs and bury my head between his legs, and I suck him the way I’ve wanted to do since the day I met him.
I come in half a second flat as those images assault me, a lot clearer than the ones I’ve been imagining in my head now that I have a real point of reference.
I’m feeling a little lightheaded as I turn off the taps and dry off, cursing when I realise I left my trunks in the room in my haste to escape. Casey is wearing his swimmers by the time I make my way out to the room—both a blessed relief and a shattering disappointment—a soft smile on his face as he texts with his younger sister.
He glances up at my approach, eyes sweeping down my partially naked body, just the towel hiding me away. But unlike me, he looks straight back down to his phone, completely unaffected. It hurts more than it should.
“Luna good?” I ask.
“Yeah. Can you believe she’s talking about boys already? She’s, like, twelve years old, man.”
“Well, girls mature a lot faster than boys,” I say reasonably. At least that’s what Henrietta has been telling me for years. “Besides, how old were you when you started looking at girls?”
He studies me, one eye closed in concentration. It shouldn’t be as cute as it is. “I don’t know. Not twelve.”
“Probably a good thing, hey? What with your addictive personality type.” I hope it’s okay for me to joke about that even though I keep my tone light.
Casey barks out a laugh. “Probably. Yeah.”
I find my swimmers and then slink back into the bathroom to pull them on. I’m aware that modesty and Casey Calloway have never kept company but I’m not about to just start strutting around naked around him. I can’t normalise this type of thing between us. My sanity will not survive.
“You ready?” I ask as I walk back into the room, pulling on a t-shirt while he looks me over.
“Yeah. I’ll just grab a top,” he says, rifling through his messy duffle bag. “Probably not the kind of establishment that would take too kindly to a topless exhibition.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t know about that,” I can’t stop myself saying. “I don’t think anyone who saw you naked would complain.”
His hand stills as he rifles through his bag before he looks up at me, a laugh on his face. “Is that what you want? I’m happy to show off for you, H. Just say the word.”
“Just get dressed,” I say, adding an eyeroll to make it sound like I mean it. Yes I damn well want him to show off for me, but the last thing he needs is any more encouragement in that regard.
He’s grinning as we leave the room, arm trailing over my shoulders as we step into the lift. I’m trying to ignore the casual claiming of me when he leans across and sniffs.
“Mmm,” he frowns. “What happened to your citrus and cedar scent?”
I just manage to rein in my doubletake as I look across at him, trying to work out how he knows the way I smell.
“It’s the hotel’s shower gel,” I say anyway even though I’d only used it on my dick. Maybe I should tell him to get on his knees if he wants a real sniff of it.
“Mmm,” he hums again, dropping his touch but not moving away from me as our shoulders bump together.
“You don’t like it?”
“I just like the way you smell better,” he says, not a hint of guile or artfulness in that statement. And that’s the problem with this friendship—Casey just says stuff like that and has no clue how his words affect me, how I’ll probably spend a good few hours dissecting this very conversation later tonight. I know I’m going to have to just front up and tell him the truth about my sexuality, but I feel like we’re so far down the track that he might see it as deceitful that I haven’t said anything.
And that still doesn’t answer the question of whether it would change the way he behaves towards me. I have a feeling it won’t.
Thanks to my impromptu but very necessary shower, Sonny and Izak are already down by the pool, wearing boardshorts and already onto the cocktails.
“What took you so long?” Izak asks, looking up at us from his sun lounger.
“This one,” Casey says, knocking his head in my direction. “Wanted a shower first.”
“Beforea swim?” Izak replies, scratching his head.
“Well, it takes time to look that good,” Casey grins at me.
“Way to throw me under the bus,” I grumble as Casey laughs. He’s already kicking his slides off and shedding his t-shirt while I try not to get distracted by his abs again. You’d think I’d be immune by now.
