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“No big deal,” Devon said, keeping his back to Hunter. “It’s freezing in here. We’re going to be drawn to each other’s warmth in our sleep.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Hunter said, his voice sounding distant in the dark even though he was right beside him. He got quiet. The sheets rustled.
Devon closed his eyes, willing himself to go back to sleep, to forget how Hunter felt against him.
The bed jostled again, Hunter clearly restless next to him. Maybe he wanted Dev to leave.
“You okay?” Devon asked.
“I’ll be fine.” The words were gruff in a way Dev was familiar with.
“Just woke up horny as fuck?” he guessed.
The rumbling sound that came from Hunter was somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “Just a stupid dream. I’ll be fine.”
“Good dream or bad one?”
“My dick doesn’t get hard over a nightmare, genius. Now shut up and go to sleep.”
Devon tried, but Hunter kept shifting over on his side. The guy was obviously struggling. “Uh, you need me to go back to my bed so you can rub one out?”
A choked sound came from Hunter’s side. “What?”
“Come on, Hunt. It’s not like I’ve never heard you do it. You’re not that stealth. We live in close quarters. The bathrooms are always crowded. We both do what we need to do.”
He sniffed. “Don’t act like I’m the only noisy one. Like I can’t hear those grunting sounds you make into your pillow. You’re no jerk-off ninja either.”
Devon stilled. “You’ve listened to me get off?”
“Hard to not hear. You kind of get into it, man.” Hunter tugged on the covers. “But no, you don’t need to sleep in a wet bed just because I’ve got blue balls.”
“All right. We can just lie here and have blue balls together. Call it brotherhood bonding.”
“Wait, you, too?”
“Well, someone rubbed his dick on my ass while I was sleeping. My brain only has one way to process that. But you’re right. Wet bed was a bad idea. I’d rather die of blue balls than get out from under this blanket right now.”
Hunter got quiet again, and Devon figured that was the end of the conversation, but then the mattress squeaked and a drawer opened. After another second and more jostling from the other side of the bed, something landed in front of Devon. A small bottle of lotion and a sock.
“What the hell?” he asked, pushing up on his elbow.
“Fuck it,” Hunter said. “What’s the difference whether we’re on opposite sides of the room or not. Do what you need to do. I’ll do what I need to do. Just don’t get it on my sheets.”
Devon stared at the bottle, the words reverberating in his head. They were going to jerk off next to each other? Sweet mother in heaven. This was such a bad, bad, really hot idea. He grabbed the bottle. “Must’ve been some dream. You’re too horny to think straight. Playboy model or something?”
“No.”
The bed bounced as Hunter adjusted himself, and it nearly killed Devon not to turn and look. Was Hunter sliding his sweats down or would he just tuck his hand in his pants and pull his dick out? What pictures were running through the guy’s mind?
“What was the dream about, then?” Devon asked, pushing his luck as he gave his own cock a squeeze through his shorts.
He didn’t think Hunter would answer. If anything, the questions would probably knock some sense into Hunter and put this whole thing to a stop. But after a moment, he heard the flip of a cap on a bottle and the squirt of lotion or lube, and Hunter answered. “I didn’t see anyone’s face. I was . . . tied down and things were being done to me. Like I’d been abducted by an alien or something and I just had to take whatever. Stupid, I know.”
“Nah, sounds hot.” Devon took the risk and rolled onto his back. The covers were still over them both, but his arm brushed against the springy dark hair that covered Hunter’s forearm. He could feel the tension in Hunter’s limb, knew that was the hand he was using to jerk himself.
Devon swallowed back the groan and the rush of desire. He pushed his shorts down and greased up his cock. If Hunter was going to have a temporary moment of insanity, Devon wasn’t stupid enough not to enjoy it for all it was worth. He hadn’t hooked up with anyone in forever, and the guy who played a starring role in most of his fantasies was stroking himself next to him. Yes, Hunter was straight. Yes, this was probably ten kinds of fucked up. He didn’t care. He wanted to smell the scent of Hunter in the air. He wanted to join in that fantasy with him—Hunter strapped down and being violated in devious ways. In his head, Devon easily drifted into the role of captor, the one who would tease Hunter to the edge.
Hunter cursed softly under his breath, the sound rife with pent-up pleasure, and Devon gave his cock a rough stroke. He lifted his eyelids, his vision now adjusted somewhat to the dark. In his peripheral vision, he could see Hunter’s spread-out form, the blankets undulating where his hand moved beneath the covers. Devon almost came from the sight alone.
