Hunter made some strange half-laugh/half-choke sound. “Fuck you.”
“You wouldn’t know how.”
“Ain’t that the damn truth.”
The sound of slick fists moving over flesh filled the room, and Devon got lost in the moment—their mingled grunts and groans, the scent of their heated skin, and the telltale motion of the bed as they both hurtled toward release. Hunter reached his finish line first, and the deep, guttural sound he made did Devon in. He could imagine his friend making that sound as Dev buried his cock deep in his ass, showing him all the things he’d never felt before, teaching him how good it could be, how rough he could make it.
Orgasm rushed down his spine and jetted outward, sensation rocketing through him. Devon swallowed back his shout, afraid to alert anyone left in the house, and hot fluid spilled over his fist, the sock long lost in folds of the covers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
The release went on for longer than normal, and he had to fight not to pump his hips and bounce the whole bed. But when he was done, he was flying on the high of it. He sank into the mattress and sighed. For a long stretch of seconds, it was just their harsh breathing in the cold air, their hearts beating wildly, bodies lying still and spent.
“You totally got it on my fancy sheets, didn’t you?” Hunter said finally. His voice was lazy and sated—a just-fucked voice that Devon wanted to roll around in.
“It’s mostly just on me,” he replied, still holding the blanket away from the sticky mess on his hand and stomach.
The bedcovers rustled, and then Hunter thrust something against his side. “Here. Use this.”
Devon grabbed the ball of material—Hunter’s T-shirt. He resisted the urge to hold it to his face and inhale and cleaned himself up instead. He tossed the thing to the floor and dragged his shorts up. “You all right?”
“I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“Yep.”
Devon frowned and rolled to his side, propping himself up on his elbow. Hunter was evaluating the ceiling, a pensive look on his face. “It’s okay if you’re freaking out a little, you know?”
Hunter didn’t look his way.
Damn. The last thing he wanted was awkwardness. “It’s not a big deal. Things always look different after you come. You look back and realize that fantasy you were getting off on is actually pretty twisted and embarrassing. Or that person that looked so good a few minutes ago isn’t quite so hot. But what just happened was nothing. No need to stress about it. We were horny. We jerked off. We just happened to be near each other when it happened.”
Hunter smirked. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t be having deep, philosophical thoughts about my sexuality?”
Devon snorted. “What? Now you think you’re bi?”
“I don’t know. What if I am? I just jerked off with a guy and don’t feel weird about it.”
Devon sighed. Well, wouldn’t that be wonderful. It also was highly unlikely. “Do you see other guys and think about fucking them?”
“No.”
“Do you get hard seeing your teammates hit the showers?”
He scowled. “Hell, no.”
Devon sighed and laid his head back down. “Sadly, I think you’re woefully straight, big man.”
“Would you make a move on me if I wasn’t?” he asked, no jest in his voice.
“No.”
“Not your type?”
Devon closed his eyes. “Nope.”
You’re exactly the wrong type.
I don’t fuck people I love.