Out of Bounds

by Gray, Mackenzie

  “You’re not ready,” I tell him, but the truth is, I’m not ready. Because once I pass this threshold with him, there’s no going back to the way things were. Not for me.

  “I am.” He touches my cheek. Presses the softest, gentlest kiss to my mouth. My throat closes with emotion, those three words that are dying to break free. “I want you inside me.”

  A shudder rolls through me, my shoulders curling inward. I can’t do it. I can’t resist him, resist this. I want all of him. I want the touching, the listening, the mind-blowing sex. But the tender moments too. The times when we seek pleasure in one another’s bodies, slow and unhurried. Making love.

  He kisses me again, sweeping his tongue into my mouth. A helpless sound catches in my throat. I open wider and kiss him back, my palms shifting to draw him closer. For a time, it’s like I imagined it to be: tender and comforting. But the kisses grow darker, more insistent. Logan grips me tighter, rubbing his dick against my body in sweet, simulated fuck.

  The last thread of my control snaps. I shouldn’t be surprised. Logan’s sex drive, I’ve learned, is insatiable.

  Reaching into the bedside table, I grab the lube and a condom. We’re still kissing as I rip open the foil packet, and Logan draws back to watch me roll it onto myself. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them.

  “Lie back, baby,” I tell him, bracing myself over his torso. I pour lube onto my fingers. Logan spreads his legs. Then I slip my slick fingers past his crack to circle his hole.

  He flinches with a shaky laugh. “Cold,” he says.

  I kiss him again. It’s my favorite thing to do. Kiss Logan. Hungry kisses and soft kisses and I’m-sorry kisses and you-are-my-world kisses. “Don’t worry. I’ll warm you up.”

  I’ve been finger-fucking Logan almost every night, so his body’s already primed for me. The heat is there, the anticipation simmering in his eyes. His breathing shallows out as I slowly rub around his entrance, going slow so the skin sensitizes, so every touch is electricity shooting up his spine. My other hand lazily strokes his cock, which leaks onto his thigh. I lick up the trail of fluid, then flick my tongue across the engorged head for good measure. Logan’s eyes flutter closed on a moan. He strokes my side and back with soft fingertips, lighting small fires beneath my skin.

  After some time, I feel his body start to give. I push in the first finger. We’ve done this enough times now that his body opens for me without complaint. It’s almost greedy, how quickly it accepts me. I stroke him with the single finger for a while. He begins to squirm.

  “How long are you going to torture me?” he asks, voice husky. His eyes open.

  My chuckle coasts over his sensitive flesh. I press a kiss beneath his hip bone and inhale the musk of his arousal. My dick aches to be buried inside my friend’s body, to pound into him with all that’s been building these past weeks, to draw those raw, broken groans from his chest, to feel him tremble beneath my hands as he reaches the peak of where pleasure and pain coexist. “Long enough.” He’s been waiting for this, and I want to make it good for him. I want to make it good for both of us.

  His moans crest and break as I slip in a second finger. The most I’ve given him is three. I’m much larger than three fingers, so I’m not sure how easily he’ll take me. We’ll have to go slow. I don’t want to hurt him. I know I won’t be able to last long. It feels like I’ve been waiting my entire life for this moment.

  “More,” he moans, face flushed, eyes glassy. “Give me more, baby. I want that cock. I know you want it too.” He begins to shift his hips, making shallow thrusts on my fingers.

  God, his words are eating me alive. I force myself to keep the pace steady. “You’ll get my cock,” I tell him, finally adding the third and final finger. I’m starting to sweat. “Don’t worry about that.” I brush his prostate, and his voice cuts off. He’s shaking so hard the mattress is vibrating, and he lifts his hips and sinks onto my hand so I brush that pleasure zone again. And again.

  “I’m close,” Logan gasps.

  That’s my cue.

  Removing my fingers, I position myself at his entrance, squirting some lube onto myself and smearing it around. I glance at Logan, and he’s looking at me with so much intensity I feel like I’m going to burst into flames. “Ready?” I ask.

  “I’ve been ready.”

  I know that. It’s just that I haven’t been ready. But I am now. I’m ready to give myself to this man, even if it means a broken heart come summer’s end. Because this will end. He’ll go off onto his life. And I’ll go onto mine. And that will be it.

  Slowly, I push into him a little. He bites his lip at the burn. I wait until his body adjusts to my girth before pushing in a little more. It’s literal torture. I want to thrust into him hard and deep, as deep as he can take me. But I need to wait until he gives me the go ahead.

  I know that moment’s close when he starts moving in shallow thrusts, each push bringing me deeper into him, until I’m seated at the hilt.

  Never in my life did I imagine I’d end up here. My eyes close to keep the emotion from showing on my face. I’m inside Logan McGregor, my best friend. He let me in. Trusted me with his body. Wants me to fuck him like an animal.

  I planned on letting him adjust to the fit, but that’s not on Logan’s agenda. Immediately, he begins moving up and down, fucking himself on me. It’s probably the hottest sight I’ve ever seen. For a moment, I can only watch, mesmerized, as the flush builds and his muscles ripple under smooth skin. He’s beautiful.

  “So good,” he grates out. “It feels so fucking good.” Each time he thrusts, I nudge his prostate, wringing the pleasure from him.

  Gripping his hips, I pull my friend closer and lean over him. He stills beneath my hands, feeling the strength and dominance. “Follow my lead,” I say, and slowly begin to move. Plunging in, pulling out, the tightness of his ass giving me the friction I crave.

  I know the moment I hit the spot. His entire body goes rigid. His breath deepens, neck arching back, his tendons standing out, mouth open in a soundless scream. He chokes off a sound. Shudders again. “Austin.” The word’s agonized. He fumbles for my arm, fingers digging in so hard they bruise. I keep thrusting, slow.

  The speed picks up. My balls tingle with mounting pressure. I’m close.

  My other hand starts to jack him.

  “Austin,” he moans. “Austin.” That’s the only word in his vocabulary right now. His body writhes beneath mine, his ass bearing down on me so our wet skin slaps together. I have to brace myself briefly, as I’m on my knees, but then I angle one of my legs open. I’m ramming into him, and I think it’s too much, but he goes, “Harder,” so I do.

  “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.” He’s shouting the words, and I have to press a pillow against his face so the people in the hallway don’t hear. Maybe they’ll think he’s banging some chick he just met, but more than one person saw us return to the room together.

  “Quiet, baby.” I pull the pillow away and kiss him, his groan vibrating along my teeth. Our mouths clash. It’s aggressive and full of need. I want to devour him. I want to slip into his skin so we’re one person, no space between us. I want to take his desire and make it my own. God, I want him. All of him. For as long as I can have him.

  “It’s never—I can’t—” The words die on his tongue. My thighs slap the back of his. His powerful legs are splayed on either side of me, trembling with tension. “Fuck.”

  Sweat drips from my skin, splashing onto his chest. My orgasm is right there. “Gonna come,” I growl, somehow managing to hold off long enough to deepen my thrusts until Logan stiffens. Then he’s shooting all over my stomach, moaning into the pillow over and over about how it’s so good, it’s the best he’s ever had and he never thought it would be this way, and I’m hunched over, growling out filthy expletives as I shoot into him, the warm clasp of his body sucking me dry.

  I coll
apse on top of his chest, spent. His come is sticky against me. I have no energy to move or care.

  We say nothing as the minutes pass and our heart rates slow. My thoughts drift, and I start to laugh.

  Logan smooths his hands up and down my back, occasionally palming my ass. It feels nice. “What?” he asks, his nose skimming along my neck.

  “I just realized we’re going to have to take another shower.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  I look down at him. Smile. “No.” Showering with Logan, being with Logan, will never be a problem in my book. It will always be a gift.

  “Baby.” His expression is tender as he brushes a curl from my forehead. “That was seriously amazing.” He holds me closer. “You might make a convert out of me yet.”

  Silence is all I can give him. It’s easy to feel that way when it’s not real, when you don’t have to wake up every morning knowing that kissing a man in public might lead to assault or death. For Logan, this is fantasy. He’s safe in our room, away from prying eyes. He can say and do whatever he wants and receive no backlash from it. I don’t want to ruin what we have, the time we have remaining, so I hold him close. And try to imprint this moment in my mind, so that I can remember it once it’s gone.

  Chapter 20

  Austin

  The last practice of the summer finally arrives. The mood is somber, though it’s beautifully sunny, with an unusually cool breeze. All twenty-five of us stand around the bleachers, since there isn’t any equipment out. Weird. I sort of expected Coach Romero to give us one last crazy hurrah. I still remember our very first practice with the blindfolds. I’ll never forget that.

  A few minutes later, Coach walks onto the field, hands in his pockets. No equipment, though he wears his cleats. It’s quiet. Melancholy. We’ve all bonded in ways we never expected to. We started as a ragtag crew from every corner of the world, and made ourselves into something great: a team. Leaving here tomorrow, I know, as do all of my teammates, that we’ll leave with lifelong friends, no matter where life takes us.

  “So,” he says, voice muted. “We’ve reached the end of the road.”

  The guys all glance at one another. I catch Logan’s gaze across the circle. His eyes are veiled. I look to Christian, whose mouth is drawn down into sadness. I look to Greg and Manuel, who grew close this summer and have already planned to visit one another in the next six months. Friendship is a beautiful thing.

  “Well, one road,” Coach amends. “But tomorrow, you’ll begin a new road. One that will continue toward your end-goal, whatever that may be. I know all of you will go on in life to accomplish great things. Success is imminent when you work hard. And I’ve never come across a group of harder working individuals.” He clears his throat. “Wherever soccer takes you, just know you’ll always have a home here, at Academy Paris. And I’m proud to call each of you an academy graduate.”

  I’m not normally a sentimental guy, but his words make my eyes burn. It’s powerful, to feel like you belong.

  Coach Romero laughs self-consciously, glancing down at the grass. When he looks up, his own eyes are wet. “What I’m really trying to say is: thank you. Thank you for working hard. Thank you for putting your heart and soul into the game. Thank you for being kind to one another, for supporting one another, for fighting for one another. Both figuratively and literally.” He finds Logan and me in the group, and everyone chuckles. “I decided to forgo practice today. You’ve earned it. Instead, there’s a party this afternoon at my house. Everyone’s welcome. Your friends and family too. Food, drink, foosball, music.” For the first time these six weeks, Coach Romero breaks out in a wide smile. “Let’s end the summer with a bang.”

  We’re all hooting and hollering when I spot movement from the corner of my eye. Lydia, dressed in shorts and a flowy blouse, waves to me with a huge smile splitting her face. Casey stands next to her.

  “Holy shit,” I breathe, breaking away from the group to greet my sister and roommate.

  “Big brother,” she murmurs, throwing her arms around me. I squeeze tightly, burying my face in her shoulder. There is nothing better than seeing someone you love after time apart. Aside from the away games when I attended Duke, I’ve never been gone this long before. I’ve missed Lydia’s sass, but more than that, having someone who supports me close by.

  Pulling back, I give her a once-over. Bright-eyed and smiling, just what I like to see. “It’s good to see you. You look good.” My attention settles on Casey, and we give each other a quick hug. “Glad you could make it, Case.”

  Lydia narrows her eyes at something over my shoulder. “And who’s this?” she asks.

  “Logan.” My friend appears next to me and offers his hand. “You might not remember me, but Austin and I were friends in high school.”

  “Oh, I remember you.” There’s a gleam in her eye that I don’t like. Casey doesn’t appear to like it either, judging from his scowl.

  I ask, “Did you check into your room?” Then I look at Casey as something dawns on me. “Are you two sharing a room?”

  “No.” Her voice whips out. “Separate rooms. And yes, we checked in.” She stands straight, her body angled away from Casey. “I’m probably going to go back up and take a nap, but if you tell me the address for the party later, I’ll—we’ll—meet you there.”

  Hours later, everyone but me is sufficiently drunk. That’s ten hours of booze, pizza, and shenanigans. It’s close to midnight, probably. I wouldn’t know. I haven’t checked the time in hours. The air is alive with sound, laughter, conversation, music. I think this is what it feels like to be free.

  I currently stand on the outside patio near the food table. Coach Romero has a beautiful piece of property. A kidney-shaped pool is set in the pale stone of the patio. Beyond the patio is a decently sized grassy area, the entire backyard wrapped around with a tall wooden privacy fence. The grill is hot with sizzling meat, the smell of char mingling with that of chlorine. There’s close to seventy people here. Relaxed against the side of the house, I’m content to observe and let my mind wander.

  That’s when Lydia appears. Her smile is brilliant and lights up her whole face. I know it’s not from alcohol, since she’s been sipping from the same glass of wine for the past two hours. I spotted her a few times over the course of the night, but she was off doing her own thing. As well as hanging out with—surprise, surprise—Casey.

  “I have to tell you, big brother. Your friends sure know how to throw a party.”

  I want to tell her that they’re not my friends, when I stop myself. They weren’t my friends in the beginning, but they’re my friends now. I learned how to open up to people, learned how to let others in.

  “Yeah,” I murmur, half in wonder, as I take in the scene before me. Couples splashing in the pool. People passing a soccer ball in the grass. I don’t see Logan anywhere. He must have gone inside. “I guess they do.”

  She’s contemplative for a moment. Biding her time, I imagine. “So,” she says conversationally. “Logan, huh?”

  My focus narrows on her face, and my heart begins to pound. I forgot how observant my sister is, but maybe I can play it off. “What about him?”

  She laughs at my poor attempt to disregard my feelings. My face burns—the curse of fair skin. “You were never a good liar, Austin. You two are totally hooking up.”

  “Lydia.” There’s something wrong about discussing my hookups with my little sister. I mean, we’ve always been close, but not that close. I definitely don’t ask her about her love life. Some things are just meant to remain private.

  She rolls her eyes at my obvious distress. “What? Don’t tell me it’s not true. I can tell by the way you look at him.” She stops, considering. “And by the way he looks at you.”

  My heart trips in a combination of hope and dread. “And how does he look at me?” I ask against my better judgment. I know Logan cares for
me. We’re friends, after all. But what he feels for me can’t be what I feel for him. I feel too much. My heart isn’t big enough to contain it.

  “You really want to know?” she asks.

  I do, and I don’t.

  A droplet of sweat trails down the side of my face.

  She smiles at my nervousness. “Aw, Austin.” She wraps her arms around me, squeezing gently, and leans back to peer into my face. “You have nothing to worry about. That guy is seriously nuts for you. Like earlier, when we were making drinks in the kitchen? Everywhere you went, his eyes followed you. And the way you two moved around each other, like you were in synch—” She shakes her head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  That makes me laugh, even as something twists in my stomach. “Lydia, I think you’ve got him confused with someone else. We’re just having fun.”

  “Like I said, you’ve always been a terrible liar.”

  Whether I’m lying or not, it won’t matter beyond tonight. Tomorrow is the last day, and we’ll be parting ways. Reality is cruel and cold.

  Her voice lowers. “What’s wrong?”

  It all comes pouring out of me. “I’ve loved Logan since high school,” I confess, unable to look at her. I’ve never said this out loud before, not even to myself. “And I don’t know what I’m going to do when I leave tomorrow.” These six weeks went by faster than a blink. It wasn’t nearly enough time. “He’s playing for LA Galaxy. I have an offer from them, but is it fair for me to sign on for the same team, even if I’ll never get more than this? Logan’s a great guy. He deserves better than me.”

  Her spine snaps straight. Her eyes are green fire: searing and out of control. “What the fuck are you talking about, Austin? Any guy would be lucky to be with you. You’re kind, considerate, gentle, a great listener, loyal. So what if we have a dysfunctional family? Just because we had a hard life growing up doesn’t make us any less worthy. Everyone’s fighting their own demons.” She’s practically vibrating, she’s so angry. She dumps the rest of her wine out onto the grass. “I don’t want to hear you say shit like that again. If Logan can’t see how amazing you are, then it’s his loss. But I’m telling you, he doesn’t think that.”