by Roni Loren
“Hunt,” Dev said, warning in his voice.
“Just go with it.” He closed his eyes and let his body and the buzz take over.
Devon was a solid wall of heat against him, his movements still on beat, but tension clear in his muscles. Hunter knew this was crossing a line. Wherever the girl was, she’d surely gotten the message. But he was afraid if he let Devon go, a thousand things would come crashing down around him. He liked this moment, clung to it. The lights. The music. The scent of exertion and Devon’s soap. He didn’t want the spell wrapping around them to end.
He let his other hand slide to Devon’s hip and he held him close as they moved, zipper rubbing zipper. Hunter’s body began to respond, and he knew he should back off, but when he shifted, the hard length of Devon’s erection bumped his thigh. A hot tremor moved through Hunter.
A hand balled in the side of his shirt. “Hunter.”
Hunter lifted his head, saw the panic in Devon’s eyes. He needed to back away. Leave this be. Leave Devon alone. He leaned forward and kissed him.
Devon froze, his whole body going rigid as Hunter’s mouth touched his. Hunter started to pull away, not wanting to force anything. But then Devon groaned, parting his lips and letting Hunter in. The invitation was like the gates of heaven opening up. Keys to the kingdom thrown at his feet.
His tongue slipped inside Devon’s mouth without hesitation now—hungry, seeking. He tasted the salt of the popcorn they’d shared, the liquor, the man. The need. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He shouldn’t be doing this. But stopping wasn’t an option. He just wanted to drink and drink and drink from the well of fire their connection was creating.
Devon’s fingers curled into the sides of Hunter’s T-shirt, like he was simultaneously about to draw him close and push him away. But they didn’t move forward or back. They just stood there in the middle of the frenzied crowd, clinging to each other as one song ended and the next started, kissing like they were the only damn people in the room. Hunter’s cock pressed painfully against his fly, Devon’s thigh rubbing ever so slightly against it. Slow, slow, slow.
Hunter broke away, gasping for air and barely staving off some disastrous spontaneous orgasm. “Shit.”
Devon backed up a step, too, eyes a little wild, chest heaving. He raked a hand through his hair and looked toward the exits like he was going to bolt. But instead, he jerked a thumb at the doors. “Come on.”
Hunter’s head was spinning, but he followed Devon through the crowd, the crush of people making it impossible to catch his breath. They reached the edge of the arena after a few hard-fought minutes and escaped out to the breezeway.
People milled around them, and the harsh fluorescents blinded Hunter as they strode past the food pagodas and merch tables. Cash registers chimed, girls chattered in lines for the bathrooms, hot dogs rolled on the endless warmers. Hunter blinked, trying to get his bearings. How could the mundane world still be going on around them when everything had felt like it’d shifted inside that arena? He tried to find his voice. “Where are we going?”
“Not here,” Dev said, his steps almost stomps as he moved forward.
Hunter didn’t know what else to do but follow. And soon, Dev grabbed the arm of Hunter’s shirt and dragged him toward an alcove where the crowd noise lowered to a cacophonous hum.
Devon turned around and held his arms out. “What the ever-loving fuck was that?”
Now that they were in the unforgiving lights and not in the dark crowd, panic was inching in on Hunter, heat burning his cheeks. He’d kissed Devon. Practically mauled him. He’d gotten hard. God. “I—I don’t know. Improvising?”
Devon looked at him like he’d announced he was an alien. “Are you freaking kidding me, Hunt? How drunk are you?”
“What? I don’t know. How drunk are you?”
“Jesus Christ.” Devon dragged his hand over his face. “You can’t just—fuck.”
“I’m sorry. I . . . things got away from me. I wasn’t thinking.”
Devon looked to the tall arching ceiling of the arena like he was beseeching the heavens to save him from his imbecile roommate, and he let out a frustrated breath. “Got away from you? You think? Goddammit, Hunt. With your size, you’d think you could handle your alcohol. You’re a fucking lightweight. That’s what happened.”
Hunter’s jaw tightened. He knew he wasn’t all that drunk. Buzzed, maybe, but give him a straight line and he could walk it. He sure as hell wasn’t going to share that tidbit, though. He wasn’t drunk, but he’d definitely been out of his mind to make out with his best friend. “You didn’t exactly stop things, you know. I’m not the only one who’s trashed.”
Devon grimaced. “Freaking cheap tequila. I’m never drinking that shit again.”
Well, that answered that question. Devon looked disgusted. Kissing Hunter had disgusted him. Hunter cleared his throat and shifted his weight, discomfort rolling in like high tide. “Look, whatever. We’re drunk. I’m sorry. That girl was annoying the shit out of me, and I took the show too far.”
The last song ended and cheers erupted around from the arena. Devon glanced in the direction of the sound and rubbed the spot between his brows, resignation in his expression. “Come on, we’ll deal with this later. We need to get backstage before the rush.”
Hunter didn’t move. “I don’t need to go back with you. I can grab something to eat, and you can spend time with your sister.”
Dev pinned him with a look. “No, you’re coming. She wants to meet you, and I’m not leaving you out here to freak out over what just happened when you sober up. You can get some food backstage.”
Hunter shoved his hands in his pockets and followed, but wished he could walk right out the door. He was such an idiot. What the hell had he been thinking?
He hadn’t been. That was the only explanation.
The scene backstage was chaotic and overwhelming. People everywhere, voices shouting, no clear path to where they were supposed to go. Devon stopped and asked a guy with a headset something and flashed him the VIP passes. After that, they were ushered into a separate room down a hallway by a chatty woman with pigtails and rainbow socks.
The room they entered was smaller and much quieter. Only a few people were inside, and when Devon’s sister saw who had arrived, her face lit up and she shooed everyone else out. The door had barely clicked shut behind them before Oakley tackled Devon with a bear hug. “Oh my God, you made it!”
“Like I would miss it.” Dev swept her up and spun her off her feet.
Hunter had to smile at the obvious love between the two. He knew that Devon was the only family Oakley really had to go to these days. She’d lived with him in an off-campus apartment for a while when her music career was getting started, Devon acting as a guardian. But when Pop Luck had broken out, the record company helped her get emancipated from her parents so that she could tour without restrictions.
When Devon had told him the story, Dev had played it off as not that big a deal. But Hunter couldn’t help but wonder how hard that must have been to be responsible for his sister. And even now it had to be tough on the two of them. Oakley was just a kid living in a grown-up world. Devon was on the sidelines, unable to do much more than be moral support to her by phone.
Devon introduced Hunter, and Oakley gave him a hug and chatted with him a bit before settling down with her brother to catch up. Hunter was happy to take a backseat and let them do their thing. Maybe he could get his head together before he had to face Dev alone again.
Devon cupped the side of his sister’s face, giving her an evaluating once-over. “You’re not sleeping enough, Oak. That stage makeup can’t hide those dark circles. Are they not giving you enough time off in between shows? Are you taking your vitamins? Do I need to talk to Liam?”
She flicked Devon’s hand away. “God no, don’t say anything to him. I’m fine. It’s just been a long stretch of back-to-back shows. We’re going to Europe next week, and I’ll get a few days off. Don’t stress about me. I’m
good. How’s school?”
“I’m doing all right.”
“And by that, he means he’s acing every class and making the rest of us look bad,” Hunter offered, trying to look like he was participating in the conversation and not quietly having a breakdown.
Oakley smiled his way, her bright blue hair making her look like some cartoon pixie. “Is he still staying up all hours of the night to cram?”
“No. I cut him off at two so I can get some sleep. He usually listens.”
“You’re being nice,” she said. “I know he’s a nightmare to room with. I’ve been there.”
A nightmare wasn’t exactly how he’d label it. Hunter couldn’t imagine college without Dev across the room from him. That worn-out, cramped space at the top of the frat house felt more like home than anything else had in his life. But of course he couldn’t say all that. “He’s better than my last roommate. That one was messy as hell and farted in his sleep.”
“Oh, nice,” Devon said, throwing him a look. “I’m a step above Pigpen the Farter. I’m honored.”
“Don’t get your feelings hurt. You know I like you best, pumpkin,” he said, trying to inject the normal ease they had between them, trying to show Devon all was A-OK.
Oakley looked between the two of them, her smile sinking at the edges and her brow wrinkling. “Wait, are you two dating?”
Hunter stiffened.
Devon’s gaze met Hunter’s briefly, but then he just rolled his eyes. “Right. Like I would’ve kept it from you that I was dating a hot baseball player. Come on, Oak. Give me some credit.”
Her focus flicked to Hunter, confusion still there.
Hunter shrugged, the move feeling tight. “I’m not his type.”
“Yeah,” Devon agreed, gaze locked with his. “Straight.”
“Oh.” Oakley laughed, though it sounded a little forced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
Hunter lifted a hand. “It’s fine.”
Oakley changed the subject quickly, obviously thinking she’d offended him, and they all hung out for another hour. But Hunter was too caught up in his own thoughts to pay much attention. By the time they said good-bye to head over to the hotel room the record company had booked for Devon, Hunter felt like his brain had been put through a meat grinder.
Devon climbed into the limo first, and Hunter tried to ignore the little flare of awareness at the sight of Devon bending over, his T-shirt riding up and exposing the low rise of his jeans. What the fuck? Now he was checking out his best friend’s ass? He scrubbed a hand over his face.
Hunter climbed in, and Devon laid his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. “What. A. Night.”
“Yeah.” Hunter shifted in his seat, unable to resist the chance to look at Devon unobserved, to poke and prod at these new, unfamiliar feelings. Dev’s purple streaks were fading, leaving just the rich brown color beneath, and he had glitter streaked across his cheek from where his sister’s makeup had rubbed off on him during their final hug. All of it should have made him look feminine—other. But Devon was all man. Tall, well built, strong jawed. Any attraction Hunter felt toward him couldn’t be explained away by labeling Dev as anything female-like. The person he’d kissed had been one hundred percent dude.
And the way Devon had been with his sister—protective, in charge, solid. It’d made Hunter realize the depth of maturity that underpinned Devon’s seemingly devil-may-care attitude. The guy was a rock. A good man who’d been through a lot and had come out on the other side of it. A guy Hunter would want in the foxhole with him.
Or maybe other places.
Devon lifted his lids, sending Hunter a wary gaze. “You sobered up yet?”
“I’m good.” He rolled his neck, trying to fight the tension there. “Your sister seems like a sweet kid.”
“Mmm,” he said with a nod. “She’s the best. But I worry about her. She’s still so young. I’m not sure the payoff is worth the stress she has to go through. Sometimes I wish I could just pull her away from it all, move her in with me, and let her have a normal life.”
“Why don’t you?”
He fished out two bottles of water from the chiller and tossed one Hunter’s way. “Because I’m not her dad. And music is her passion. Who am I to tell her not to chase her dream? Plus, it’s not like I have the money to support her yet. My family can’t afford to help and wouldn’t anyway unless she moved home and cut off contact with me. If she stops the music, the money goes away.”
Hunter frowned. “That sucks. I know what that feels like.”
Devon lifted a brow. “You’re loaded. How do you know what that feels like?”
“None of the money’s mine. If I make one wrong move, my dad will cut me off. He uses that money like a weapon. He threatened to do it when I told him I was coming to California for college instead of going to his alma mater. If not for the excuse of the baseball team being one of the best, he would’ve played that inheritance card. That’s why I’m hoping to get into the majors. I want to make my own money so that I don’t have to play his game when I get back home. I can just tell him to go fuck himself.”
Devon took a long sip from his water, never taking his eyes off him. “What are you like at home?”
He shrugged. “Quiet. Keep my opinions to myself. Grin and bear it. Political Son 101.”
Dev shook his head. “I can’t even imagine that version of you.”
Hunter looked out the window. “Yeah, well, my family wouldn’t recognize this me.”
“You mean the you that gets drunk and then makes out with his gay roommate in the middle of a crowd?”
He sniffed. “I figured we were just going to pretend that didn’t happen.”
“Is that what you want?”
Hunter kept his eyes on the cars passing by the window. “I don’t know what I want.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that. Hey”—Devon leaned forward and thumped him on the knee—“you need to look at me and tell me what’s up, man. I mean, was it just a drunken lapse in sanity?”
Hunter’s ribs felt like they were cinched too tight. He tried to take a deep breath and turned to face Devon. “I don’t know.”
Devon rubbed his forehead, looking tired. “I need more than that, Hunt. Is it curiosity? Rebellion?”
His gaze snapped to Devon’s. “Rebellion?”
He smirked, a brittle edge to it. “You said it yourself. Your college experience is a big middle finger to your dad. Messing around with a guy seems like that’d be the ultimate fuck-you to his beliefs. A secret thing you could hold in your pocket while he parades you around as the perfect son.”
Hunter’s stomach burned. That couldn’t be it, right? All this stuff he was feeling around Devon. That couldn’t be fueled by some warped sense of passive-aggressive revenge. “This isn’t about my dad.”
Devon considered him, forearms braced on his thighs, that blue-eyed gaze seeming to reach inside Hunter and poke at things. “Well, not completely. You did get hard when we kissed.”
Hunter’s face flamed. “You were grinding against me.”
“You said you don’t get turned on by other guys.”
“I don’t.” He blew out a breath. “You’re not other guys. You’re . . . you.”
Devon closed his eyes and linked his hands behind his neck, a slightly pained expression on his face. “God, this is such a bad idea.”
“What?”
Devon looked at him. “This. The elephant in the limo. It’s been with us since that night we shared your bed. To cross the line or not. I thought it was just on my end, but after that kiss, I’m thinking I’m not alone.”
Hunter swallowed hard, didn’t deny it.
“I’m not going to be a dick, and pretend I’m not attracted to you,” Dev said, fearlessly holding the eye contact. “You’re a beautiful guy. You know that.”
Hunter leaned back against the seat, surprised by how much the compliment got to him. He had no shortage of people telling him he looked good. Being on th
e baseball team got him all the attention he could want, but something about Dev saying it made this satisfied warmth spread through him.
“And if you have this burning curiosity to experiment, then goddamn, I’d want to be that guy to help you out.” Devon rubbed his lips together, anxiety there. “But you’re my best friend, Hunt. I don’t have those. Sex can demolish a friendship faster than anything else. And I really don’t want to fuck this up.”
“You sleep with your friends all the time.”
“That’s different. They’re casual friends and we know what’s what. I don’t live with them. I don’t tell them about my life. They’re hookups. They’re gay. Everybody knows where they stand.”
“I know how casual sex works. I’ve had my share.”
“With women. Don’t pretend this is the same thing. Things might seem exciting now—all that unknown. But how are you going to feel the morning after when you wake up and it sinks in that you’ve slept with a dude? That the taste lingering in your mouth is my dick? That your ass is sore because I’ve had my fingers or more inside you?”
Hunter could tell Dev was trying to shock him into clear thinking, but instead, his heartbeat ticked up and a whip fast bolt of desire snapped through him, sending all his blood south. He shifted in his seat, trying to adjust the front of his pants, but it was already too late. His cock was half hard and obvious against his jeans.
Devon’s gaze caught Hunter’s movement and then slowly traced down his body until it settled on the telltale sign of arousal. “Fuck.”
Hunter grabbed his jacket and dragged it over his lap. “Just forget it.”
Tense silence ensued, only the sound of the tires on pavement filling the space between them, and Hunter closed his eyes, trying to will his body to stand down. Mortification bled through him when his efforts didn’t do a damn thing, his dick only getting harder.
Finally, after a long minute, Devon cleared his throat. When he spoke, something in his tone had changed. “Move the jacket away.”
Hunter opened his eyes, teeth grinding. “No, this is humiliating enough.”
