Crew
“Aye, Crew,” Branson says from across the campfire. “Can you turn up the music a smidge?”
Friendsby Chase Atlantic is playing softly. I crank it up a few notches on the Bluetooth before getting up and retrieving another beer. “Anyone want another?”
Everyone besides Weston raises their hands. Anderson is drinking with us again tonight, and I’m pleasantly surprised. He seems to be letting loose just as much as the rest of us. He’s always taken on a sort of caretaker role amongst the group. If someone drinks too much, he takes care of them. He’s usually always the designated driver, too. He’s very cautious, and while I truly believe it’s in his nature and he finds great pleasure in doing so, it’s also nice to see him leave the inhibitions at home and indulge. Be young and have fun.
Weston is well and truly sloshed, having been nursing a bottle of fireball all evening. He’s going to fucking hate himself in the morning. After we left the lake, he saw his girlfriend was tagged in some pretty incriminating photos on Instagram—half naked, dancing-on-guys type photos—and has been broody ever since, understandably so.
I’ve known Weston almost as long as I’ve known Anderson, and the entire situation pisses me off. She’s been hounding his ass all fucking weekend because he’s camping with us and not able to talk to her that often, only to turn around and do so much worse. He doesn’t fucking deserve that. He’s one of the most stand-up guys I’ve ever met.
Currently, he’s practically passed out in the camping chair right now. Anytime we’ve tried to take the bottle from him, he growled at us to leave him alone. At one point, we tried to get him to go to bed, but that pissed him off too. Aston ended up just covering him with a blanket and propping a pillow behind his head.
Anderson is sitting next to Luca across from me, his face illuminated by the fire, eyes glimmering, and his face is a little flushed. He’s feeling a buzz, I can tell.She Thinks of Meby Landon Tewers starts playing—the beat and the lyrics sexy as fuck—and his hungry gaze moves to me. Holding my stare, his lip curls up into a grin as I lift my beer to my mouth, drinking a few large sips. His eyes drop to my throat, lips parting slightly as he watches me swallow. Lowering the can to the cup holder, my tongue swipes across my lips, his eyes following that too.
The fire’s almost dead now, so Branson and Luca get up to head to bed. Knox and Aston are in their own world in their chairs, probably about to head to their tent too. Lounging in his chair, Anderson’s legs kick wide, his dark gaze still hooked on me. His thumb comes up and mindlessly rubs his bottom lip, seemingly deep in thought.
Finishing the rest of my beer, I stand, tossing it in the trash. “I’m going to bed.” My pulse is racing, waiting to see if he follows me like I want him to. By the time I reach the tent, my dick is heavy and throbbing between my legs.
Getting undressed down to my underwear, I climb into my sleeping bag. Not even two minutes later, the tent is unzipping, and in walks Anderson. It’s so dark, I can barely see his face, but the air is crackling already. My heart is thundering in my chest, and I can hardly sit still as he undresses down to his boxers and climbs under his covers beside me.
We’re both lying on our sides, facing one another. The silence is deafening, and the tension is heady. My eyes have long since adjusted to the dark, and with the slight moonlight leaking in, I can see the way his chest is rising and falling rapidly, and the way he’s chewing on his bottom lip while watching me.
He moves first, his lips on mine before I know what’s happening. His tongue thrusts into my mouth, tasting like Bud Light and marshmallows as he positions his upper half on top of me, hands on either side of my head.
A better man would put a stop to this. I’m very aware he still has a girlfriend, and this is wrong. But I never claimed to be a better man. I want him any way I can have him, and frankly, I don’t give a shit about Calina. She isn’t here. I am.
My hands roam over his hard chest, tweaking his nipples between my fingers, making him groan into my mouth. It sends a zap of desire straight to my cock, and I will do just about anything in this moment to elicit more of that sound from him. My hands trail down his stomach, feeling his abs jump against my palms.
His lips leave mine as they pepper kisses along my jaw, then down my neck. I let out a gasp when he sucks on my pulse point, my hands finding the courage to trail lower until I’m cupping him over his boxers. My God, he’s fucking hard as hell andhuge.
Tentatively wrapping my fingers around his girth, I stroke up and down his length. He starts lightly thrusting into my hand as he breathes, “Fuck,” into my ear.
Teasing his waistband with my fingers, I’m about to dip underneath, when he jumps back. “Wait!”
“What?” My breathing is harsh, and I have to stifle a groan at the loss of his body weight on mine.
“Fuck.We shouldn’t do…that.”
“Why not?”
He lets out a heavy sigh and his brows are pinched tight, as if it physically pains him to put a stop to this. “Calina. Crew, fuck. She’s still my girlfriend.”
Fucking hell.This fucking bitch. “Oh, for sure. Definitely. Sorry, man.”
“Nah. Don’t apologize. I kissed you first.”
A slightly uncomfortable silence blankets us as he lies back down, facing me like before. My body is still buzzing from his hands and lips on me just moments ago. Turning on my side so I’m facing him again too, we watch each other for several moments, eyes locked.
“Okay, so…” he says, breaking the tense silence. “Kissing probably wouldn’t be so bad. We already did that, so—”
I reach up and grab his face, crashing my lips against his before he can finish his sentence. My moral code is out the window tonight. With my sleeping bag unzipped, just like his, I’m able to pull myself on top of him, straddling his hips as he opens his mouth wider, deepening the kiss.
His erection is pressing against mine, my hips rocking of their own volition. Swallowing a moan from him, my cock leaks in my boxers, begging to be freed. A thought pops into my head, a workaround to his dilemma.
Breaking the kiss, I sit up, my hands resting on his bare chest. “You know, if we were to touch ourselves… in each other’s vicinity… ittechnicallywouldn’t be considered cheating.”
His eyes darken, and a wicked grin takes over his face. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. That would work. No touching each other.”